Almost Fabulous
by JillIsMe
Summary: Haley Jones, aspiring journalist, has FINALLY gotten her chance to do an interview for People Magazine. Her subject is Harmony Woodwin, the daughter of a music producer and the star of her own reality show.
1. In Which I am NOT a Squirrel Whisperer

Disclaimer: Alright, Kiddos! The concept is Jane Austen's, but the craziness is MINE.

Author's Note: This is a modernized version of Emma, but we start from Harriet Smith's (a.k.a. Haley Jones) perspective.

"You were running out of a burning building? How does that make you FEEL?"

"First of all: you're trying to interview a SQUIRREL. Second of all: are you a journalist, or are you a shrink? 'How does that make you feel?' Really? If I had to guess, I'd say running out of a burning building made him feel hot."

The squirrel began to squeak indignantly, so I retracted my outstretched fist, which I had been pretending was a microphone. Admittedly, I had gotten a bit too near my interviewee's pile of nuts.

"That was some first-class reporting, Hales. Eat your heart out Barbara Walters!"

In a rare moment of immaturity, attempting to interview a squirrel notwithstanding, I give Robbie a shove, and he falls out of the tree. Fortunately, we're on the lowest branch, so I can enjoy the sight of his ass in the air. Unfortunately, he'd been holding his camera at the time, so I also enjoyed the sight of a broken lens.

Well...HELL!

I was going to pay for that one. I wasn't sure when, and I wasn't sure how, but payment was inevitable. At least, it was inevitable if I wanted to keep Robbie around, and losing Robbie Martin was not a sacrifice I was willing to make. He wasn't just my first, and only, one-night stand. He wasn't just my favorite camera man at The Goddard School of Journalism. He was my best friend, who had, unbeknownst to me, grown up in the county next to mine. His parents were farmers, and his chosen uniform of overalls, a plaid shirt, and work boots reflected how he had been raised. My grandparents, who I had lived with since I was five, because my mother was dead, and my father, whoever he was, was...somewhere, were also farmers, so my ideal outfit was no different than Robbie's.

The pair of us stuck out like sore thumbs among the immaculately groomed heirs and heiresses who attended The Goddard School of Journalism, which was tucked away in Greenwich Village. The Goddard School of Journalism was one of those tiny colleges that you don't know exists, until they try to recruit you with an information packet. However, Celeste Goddard, who had taken over the school following her father's death, knew how to get her students' feet into any door. My door of choice was People Magazine. Even though I had no desire to lead an interesting life, I was fascinated by those who did lead interesting lives. It wasn't even the relationships or scandals that appealed to me. I just wanted to know the little things: what they ate for breakfast, where they shopped, what their parents did for a living, etc.

"Oh, SHIT," I shriek, banging my hand against my forehead.

"Ouch," I whimper, as Robbie rolls his eyes.

"An eye-roll? That's ALL I get?"

"After the way you treated my camera...HELL YES!" Then, because he's a cheeky bastard, he kisses my forehead.

"Now...why did you hit yourself?"

"Oh, SHIT," I repeat, and he grabs my hand to keep my forehead from suffering another blow.

"I'm supposed to be at Celeste's in twenty minutes."

"Since when?" He relaxes against the tree trunk, and closes his eyes, but he doesn't start fake-snoring, so I know that getting him to cooperate shouldn't be too much of a hassle.

"Since she called me this morning to give me my marching orders."

"I bet those marching orders didn't include interviewing squirrels," he teases, as he pulls me to my feet.

I could kill him, but the damage I've already inflicted upon his camera will have to do for now. After all, I can't kill Robbie, hide the body, and make it to Celeste's in twenty minutes.

I knock on the front door two minutes before our scheduled meeting time, but Celeste doesn't answer, so I use the back door, which leads into her kitchen. She's sitting at the table, with various magazines spread out in front of her, and her phone pressed firmly against her ear.

"That's right. Her name is Jones. Haley Jones. No. Next week is not too soon. You're the best! Uh-huh. You too. Uh-huh. Goodbye." With a triumphant smile, Celeste hangs up the phone, and rushes toward me, scattering magazines as she goes.

Needless to say, that was an unsettling conversation to walk in on, so I'm not sure what to feel when Celeste charges at me.

"Haley, my dear, you won't BELIEVE what has happened!" Celeste had taken my hands, and she was whirling me around the kitchen, before I had a chance to catch my breath. She was beaming, and I was flying...right into Robbie's arms. THANK GOD for Robbie! He had an uncanny knack for being right where I needed him. Who knows what I could have broken if Celeste had thrown me into the counter.

"Is everything alright, Celeste," I pant.

"Everything is more than 'ALRIGHT' you wonderful girl!" She's about to throw herself at me again, so Robbie steps between us, which doesn't faze Celeste, whose handshake leaves him wincing.

"What's going on, Celeste," Robbie prods, and I LOVE him for trying to take some of the heat off of me.

"They want Haley!"

"They?"

"THEY! People Magazine, of course!"

And then...I do hit the counter...after I faint.

When I come to, Robbie's camera is next to me. Apparently, I decided to yank it out of his hand on my way to the floor.

"Do you have some kind of vendetta against this camera," Robbie growls.

"What were you saying about People Magazine, Celeste," I hastily interrupt what I'm sure could be one hell of a lecture.

"I'm not sure I should tell you, dear."

"I'm already on the floor, Celeste, so I don't know how much more damage I can do."

"Well, People Magazine wants you to interview someone from a reality show."

"Why do they want ME?"

It's Robbie's turn to interrupt, because I'm treading into dangerous waters. I've always suspected that the success of Celeste's students has something to do with an exchange of sexual favors.

"Who do they want her to interview, Celeste?"

"This isn't really anything to faint over, Haley. It's just a little interview with some music producer's daughter named Harmony Woodwin."

non-damsel: I don't know what possessed me to do Emma, EMMA!, of all things, but...if this doesn't suck, you can consider it my gift to you. Your stories gave me so much enjoyment, I just wanted to give a little back.


	2. In Which I am NOT an Airhead

Author's Note: Well, now you've met Emma and Knightley, and I still only own the craziness!

I rolled over, and my elbow connected with something scratchy. Evan's disgruntled "Hey!" was barely audible through my sleepy haze.

"Shave better," I groaned, and snuggled against his chest.

He was so warm, and I was so very, very comfortable. I almost could have started purring.

Purring? WHAT. THE. FUCK? My eyes snapped open, and, as I jolted upright, my elbow connected with his jaw again.

He rubbed at the barely-visible bruise that was forming, and glared at me. Not to be outdone, I glared right back.

"What are you DOING here," I snap, tugging at my blankets, until they cover my Winnie the Pooh pajamas.

"Harm, I'm just giving your adoring fans what they want."

"Which is?"

"Me. In your bed. Naturally."

"More like you're giving yourself what YOU want."

"Even if that were true..."

With a dramatic flourish, he extracts a wad of papers from his pocket. A pink piece of Hello Kitty stationary is at the top. He unfolds it, and begins to read in a Shakespearean actor sort of voice. Think Kelsey Grammer or Patrick Stewart.

"Aubrey Raider from Massapequa writes: "Dear Harmony, how could you have known Evan Knight, for, like, your ENTIRE life, and NEVER tapped that? He's GORGEOUS! You're gay, right? It's okay if you are. My sister's gay. Actually, she wanted me to get your number for her." And, Emily Moss from Tulsa wants to know if we get it on when the cameras are off."

"As if the cameras are EVER off," I hiss, and Brad, the camera man, takes a closeup of Dave, the boom mike operator, snorting with laughter.

When I dream of having three guys in my room, this is not how the scenario plays out. In case you were wondering why a camera man and a boom mike operator have taken up residence in my room...Evan Knight and I are not amateur pornographers. I am Harmony Woodwin, daughter of music producer Michael Woodwin, and star of the critically-acclaimed reality show Perfect Harmony.

Unless you were just born, where have you BEEN for the last six months? Six months. Wow! I can't believe that six months is all it took for me to skyrocket to fame. Well, I am the sort of person who deserves to be internationally known within six minutes, but I wasn't expecting to have a clothing line (Harmonix), a perfume (Meadow Melody), and an autobiography (The Golden Notes of My Life) so soon after my show's premiere. But, if Paris Hilton's dog, Tinkerbell, can write a best seller, why not Yours Truly?

The icing on the fame cake is that my second favorite person in the universe (you are your own biggest fan, right?) has been by my side every step of the way. That's why I haven't "tapped that," Aubrey Raider from Massapequa! My sexuality is NOT in question. Evan Knight just doesn't "do it" for me! And I don't "do it" for him. We just "get" each other...fully-clothed. Besides, when everything you could ever dream of has been handed to you on a silver platter, what more could you want from life? Certainly not a best-friend-turned-boyfriend. That's a recipe for unnecessary drama, which can only end in bloodshed and tears.

"What were you dreaming about," Evan asks, as he raises an eyebrow suggestively. "Me, right?"

"What?" I pull my covers tighter around me, protecting myself from his idiotic suggestion.

Oh GOD! What if Aubrey Raider from Massapequa and Emily Moss from Tulsa saw this conversation? He wasn't exactly giving the right impression about our relationship.

"What were you dreaming about while you were drooling so peacefully?" He wipes his arm on the exposed portion of my pajama sleeve, pretending that he's ridding himself of (non-existent) drool.

"Huh?"

"Before you decided to hit me in the face, you were saying, 'Evan, don't take my tiny, golden man!'"

"Oh, yeah! I'd just won an Oscar."

"For a reality show? Do you even WATCH the Oscars, Harm?"

"Will it ruin my Gay Cred if I say no?" Take that, Aubrey Raider!

He opens his mouth, and then snaps it shut. Uh-oh! I know that gesture. That's his I'm-about-to-tell-you-off-for-being-ridiculous-but-I-just-don't-have-it-in-me-right-now gesture. Evan is ALWAYS on my ass about the things I say. He should just get a tattoo that says "Why does Harm HAVE TO say words?," which he can point to, in lieu of bitching at me.

"Why do you ALWAYS do that?"

"Do what?"

"You ALWAYS get in lecture mode about everything you think is wrong with me!"

"I like you."

"And that's a bad thing?"

"Harmony, I shouldn't just like you. I should RESPECT you, but I can't do that when you say things that make you seem like an airhead. Winning an Oscar for a REALITY SHOW? Really?"

"Damnit, Evan! You're being, like, SO irrational right now! It's not like I can control what I DREAM!"

"The lady makes an excellent point. HOWEVER, I guarantee that you will say something else airhead-ish today, at which point...I win!"

"Why are you betting against me?" He ruffles my hair, and I wish I was strong enough to break every bone in his hand.

"Actually, I'm betting ON you saying something that should embarrass you, but it won't, so I'll have to be embarrassed enough for both of us."

"How about I save you the trouble of being embarrassed," I snarl.

I can feel the blood pounding through my veins. Mine is a terrifying rage.

"What does that mean, Harmony?"

"It means...GET OUT! I don't want to see you! I don't want to talk to you! I don't want to be reminded that you exist!"

"Harmony, you CAN'T be serious!"

"Did I stutter? LEAVE! NOW!" I might not be strong enough to break his bones, but I am strong enough to roll him out of MY bed. Without a word, he gets up off the floor, and storms out of the room, right past Dave, who waves, and Brad, who is cackling like a deranged witch.

FUCK! I'm supposed to go to a wedding today, and Evan is my date. This him-not-existing thing could really complicate matters.

non-damsel: OMG! This story is a TERRIBLE idea. I keep trying to be original, but Becka and Christian's conversations are constantly screaming in my mind. "Sometimes the things you say make you seem a little shallow." "I think you're pretty close to perfect, so I come down on you a little too hard when I see you not being amazing." "I just want everyone to see you the way I see you." "Be the best Becka you can be." GAH! Why did you write all the best stuff first? OH, YEAH! Because I HATE Emma, so I never wanted to write an Emma fic.


	3. In Which I am NOT Impressive

Author's Note: I don't own People Magazine, and I don't mean to imply that anyone associated with People Magazine is evil. If I was smarter, I would have used an imaginary celebrity magazine. This is what happens when you don't plan ahead! Also: you might start noticing that my characters aren't exactly the same as Jane Austen's. This is not a one-chapter accident, so...buckle up for the bumpy ride, Kiddos! Finally: I'm sorry about the weird point of view change at the end of the chapter. All I can say is I HAD TO do it.

After a forty-five minute cab ride, I walked into a world of beige: the ceiling was beige, the walls were beige, the furniture was beige, and the carpet was beige; there wasn't a painting, a plant, or another color as far as the eye could see. Until I arrived at the Information Desk, where I was greeted by the golden name plate, platinum blonde hair, tangerine glasses, royal purple eyeshadow, turquoise halter top, and neon pink micro-mini belonging to seventy-year-old Marge Bates.

"If you're looking for Mr. Woodwin, his studio is on the fourth floor. Mr. Abbot's studio is on the second floor. The third floor is available for lease. People Magazine uses floors five through eight. And, there is a four-star restaurant on this floor that is a favorite among tourists. I know that is a lot of information to process, dear, but you can take a minute to think while I call Shelly on Five."

"That's very..."

"You do have an appointment with someone from People, don't you," she snapped, drumming her emerald fingernails on the desktop.

"Well, I..."

"Of course you do, dear! Why else would you bring your own camera man?"

Robbie shrugged, and smiled guiltily. GREAT! I'd FINALLY gotten my first assignment, and it was obvious that this country mouse was a first-time visitor to the big city. When Robbie had offered to come along, and to pay his own way, it hadn't even occurred to me that People would be providing one of their professionals for my use.

"Shelly, darling, it's Marge Bates from the Information Desk, just across from the four-star restaurant. There's a Miss..."

Her eyes traveled from my hair to my shoes, and she wrinkled her nose in distaste.

"Some girl with her own camera man is here for her appointment with Gerard."

Robbie began to cough, in a pathetic attempt to disguise his laughter. Well, at least SOMEONE was enjoying what would probably be my only chance to do a piece for People Magazine.

"Naturally, I could have just sent her to you, darling, but I thought I should warn you about this one...as a professional courtesy." Her eyes narrowed murderously, and I could only assume that Shelly on Five, who I was really beginning to pity, because I suspected she had to deal with calls such as this from Marge Bates all day long, had hung up on her. Marge slammed the phone down, five times, and turned her attention to me.

"I'm sorry about that, dear. Shelly isn't really receptionist material, but she has an enormous bosom, which keeps her employed."

As far as I was concerned, Marge Bates had an extreme case of foot-in-mouth disease, which didn't exactly make her receptionist material either, especially if she didn't know how to be polite to a twenty-one-year-old who was clearly a little out of her depth.

"Run along, dear," Marge commanded, pointing me in the direction of the elevator.

"Gerard's office is at the end of the hall on the left. Room 879, past nine potted plants, five restrooms, and a pay phone. If you see any celebrities, you mustn't speak to them, dear. We can't have them thinking you're anyone of consequence until you've been properly groomed and trained, can we?"

"I...suppose not..."

'Properly groomed and trained?' Why is she talking about me, to MY FACE, like I am some kind of dog? I don't even thank her for giving me (very specific) directions to Gerard's office. I just put my nose in the air, and stomp away, with Robbie fake coughing at my heels.

Gerard Hollingsworth was hastily removing the pink rollers from his hair when I entered his office, but I had to give him credit for having his makeup in place. Furthermore, he certainly had more skill with a mascara wand than I did. I sat across from him, and Robbie remained in the corner. He stared intently at the floor, probably to keep himself from commenting on Gerard's tutu. Gerard didn't acknowledge Robbie either. It was probably a good thing that Marge had warned Shelly about us.

"Um..."

"You may call me Miss," Gerard instantly came to my rescue. I'd be willing to bet money that my reaction to his appearance was the norm.

"Miss, is Harmony Woodwin going to be joining us?"

"Oh, is THAT who you're interviewing?"

"Celeste Goddard told me that I was interviewing Harmony Woodwin, but if there has been some kind of mistake..."

"Celeste Goddard doesn't make mistakes."

"It's just... I assumed that someone from the magazine would be talking both of us through the interview process."

"Harmony has already been informed that she is going to be featured in our magazine, so all you have to do is talk to her."

"That just seems so simple."

"You're not the first journalist who has said that to me."

"Can you at least tell me where this conversation is supposed to happen?"

"Harmony Woodwin will be at a wedding this afternoon, and so will you."

He handed me a post-it note with 4:30 and Central Park scrawled on it.

"Thanks for all your help," I call over my shoulder, because Robbie is shoving me out of the room.

'That eyeshadow really brings out the green in your eyes' is Robbie's farewell.

After he closes the door, I hit him in the shoulder, a little harder than I had intended to, and he winces.

"Damn! Damn! DAMN!" I bellow, most unprofessionally, and Robbie silently waits for my need to vent to pass. "I forgot to ask about my camera man!"

"But...I'm your camera man," Robbie's eyes say, while the rest of him maintains his silence.

"Everything will be fine, right? Of course it will! Gerard implied that this whole thing would be simple, so...I guess...my camera man will just...appear."

"Which means you have more important things to worry about."

"Such as?"

"It's already one o'clock, so you've got three hours to get ready for the wedding."

"That gives us PLENTY of time to get something to eat."

Robbie shakes his head pityingly, but he takes my proffered hand, and he allows me to lead him to the corner where we will have to try to catch yet another cab.

After the country bumpkin with the impressive camera closed the door, Gerard made the phone call he had been dreading. To say that he wasn't fond of his new boss was an understatement.

"The creature who was just in my office asked me why Harmony Woodwin wasn't at our meeting. I covered for you, and now I want to know why."

"I'm not sure I appreciate your tone, Gerard."

"Having a supervised meet-and-greet for interviewers and their interviewees has ALWAYS been the policy of this magazine!"

"The policy hasn't changed. We are just making an exception, and the people responsible for Harmony's show have agreed to cooperate."

"What is going on...sir?"

"Haley Jones is going to interview Harmony Woodwin without Harmony's knowledge."

"But...that's..."

"If you want to blame someone, blame Evan Knight."

"What does Evan Knight have to do with any of this?"

"He was my inspiration. I was watching the footage Brad shot this morning, and Evan told Harmony that she comes across as an airhead. So, I got to thinking...why not prove him right? Besides, watching Haley Jones trying to get close enough to Harmony Woodwin to interview her will be comedy gold."

"Haley thinks she's doing her first interview, and you're turning her, hell, you're turning both of them, into some kind of experiment!"

"If Haley succeeds in interviewing Harmony, People will publish her piece. That being said, if you don't like how I'm running things, you are more than welcome to quit! However, there aren't many people who want to hire men in tutus."

Gerard's knuckles whitened, as he gripped the edge of his desk.

"I will take your silence as a promise to comply with everything I am going to ask of you."

"You're the boss," Gerard declared, with forced enthusiasm.

non-damsel: Here's another non-butch gay guy just for you!


	4. In Which I am NOT Wrong

Author's Note: This is me, still not owning ANYTHING!

"Is there anything you want to say to the bride?"

Do you know how people on reality shows talk about their feelings, usually after something dramatic happens? I always suspected that someone off-screen was prompting them to get personal, and to throw some "bitches" and "hoes" into the mix. Boom-mike-operator Dave seemed to feel that he was my Getting Personal Guru, so I wasn't surprised when he sprang that question on me, while I was topless, but not bra-less, and trying to tame my hair. Sometimes, curls are a bitch.

"Shouldn't the bride's best friend be shoving a video camera in everyone's face and forcing them to answer that question?"

"Aren't YOU the bride's best friend?"

"Yes, but Brad would NEVER let me handle a camera without his expert guidance."

"True dat," Brad held out his fist to Dave, but whatever bee was in Dave's bonnet kept him from fist-bumping Brad.

"You still haven't answered my question."

"I would tell the bride how happy I am that she let me set her up with the groom, who I knew was her soul mate, and that listening to me was the best decision she ever made, because she will be loved and treasured for the rest of her life."

"It sounds like you're taking the credit for True's relationship."

"Of course I am! Warren was MY choice."

"But going on a second date was TRUE'S choice."

"Sadly, the second date was also all on that one," I whirl around to find Evan grimacing and pointing at me.

What was he doing in my room? Didn't he remember that he was DEAD TO ME?

"Little Miss Cupid here told True to meet her in Central Park, and she pulled the same stunt on Warren, but she never showed up, so True and Warren met each other."

"I notice you neglected to mention that True and Warren are getting married at the exact spot where I never showed up, so I don't understand why you're mad at me!"

"I'm not mad at you," he sighs. " I'm just disappointed that you manipulated people you care about."

"Maybe we should go," Dave mumbles, before glaring at Brad, who emphatically shakes his head no.

With a warning glare at Brad and Dave, Evan hands me my top.

I cover myself, and hurl my brush at the wall. I'm not sure if I'm more pissed at my curls or at Evan.

"I just wanted my friend to be happy, because I love her! Is wanting happiness for someone I love so wrong?"

"No, but you don't get to decide what should make someone happy!"

"If True wasn't happy with Warren, she wouldn't be marrying him!"

"You got very lucky this time, Harm."

"If we're late, Daddy will have a heart attack."

"Well, we can't have that."

There was no sarcasm in his tone. In fact, I couldn't detect any emotion, which troubled me, but there wasn't enough time to over-analyze the situation.

"Which purse do you want?"

I pointed at the first thing I saw, which was a lime green strap that would clash horribly with my ensemble, but having matching accessories was SO not important right now, and Evan handed it to me.

"Thanks."

It said something about our relationship that Evan would help me with my purse even though we were fighting.

"Well, I am your date, so it's the least I can do."

Some date! He didn't say another word to me for the rest of the day.

True Tessler is a hippie, even though she had missed the sixties by a couple of decades. She has the long the hair, the obsession with tie dye, and the dream that one day everyone will give peace a chance. I had met her through my father, who welcomed anyone and everyone into his studio. When Daddy brought her home for a dinner consisting of nothing that used to be a live animal, I knew she would be perfect for Warren Wallace. Warren is the only other hippie-who-hadn't-experienced-the-sixties I know. But, more than that, he is a nice guy, who I was certain would never break the heart of one of my most important people. And now, thanks to me, two modern-day hippies can live, and love, and dream of peace together. Regardless of Evan's opinion, my matchmaking had served the greater good.

The True I find in Central Park is a red-eyed, blubbering mess. My first thought is that the wedding is going to be rained out, but True wouldn't mind a little rain. In fact, she would claim that Mother Nature was weeping tears of joy, and she and Warren would shed their clothes and dance, while everyone else gawked at them.

"It isn't groovy, Harmony! It isn't groovy at all!" She blows her nose on a tie dyed handkerchief, which she returns to her pocket. How unsanitary is that?

"What's not groovy, True?"

She hands me a letter that is crumpled and tear-stained.

"Sylas isn't coming to the wedding," she snarls, which isn't very groovy of HER. "You'd think he would want to be here for his brother's sake!"

"Well, you always knew it was a long shot. After all, his aunt has the final say, and..."

"And maybe she shouldn't have the final say anymore! Sylas is YOUR age, which means he is more than old enough to make his own decisions!"

Sylas Cockerell is Warren's half-brother. After Warren's father and Sylas's mother divorced, Sylas and his mother went to live with his mother's sister, who hasn't let him out of her sight for as long as I've known Warren, so I've never met Sylas. But I've spent enough time hearing about how perfect Sylas and I would be together to start believing it. Needless to say, I wasn't wild about True's insinuation that my man was being a shitty brother to someone he has never been allowed to know, so I decided to read the letter myself.

"True, how much of this letter did you read?"

"The first sentence."

She doesn't meet my gaze, so I know I've got her beat.

"Sylas says that he wants to be at his brother's wedding more than words can express, but he has a duty to the woman who has done so much for him. However, he promises to visit soon, which should please you."

"Just not as much as it pleases you," True nudges me playfully in the ribs.

"No more stalling," I hook my arm through hers.

"Let's get you married!"

non-damsel: Here's the first Frank Churchill mention for you. Frank will be the death of me, I swear!


	5. In Which I am NOT an Icing Fan

Author's Note: Austen owns all of the good stuff!

"I think I should do this alone."

I don't know why I waited until we had reached the entrance to Central Park to admit this to Robbie. I knew the words had been burning in the back of my throat while I waited for him to try on rental tuxes, but I suspected my discontent with his presence had started with Marge Bates.

"But I'm your camera man," Robbie protests weakly enough to assure me that he will give in to all of my demands.

For good measure, I twist the knife: "And this is MY assignment!"

"I guess I'll see you later then," Robbie retorts, and, then, he walks away.

I wouldn't be surprised if he was gone when I got back to the hotel.

The thing is: Robbie is so much more than a camera man. He's my better half, who paid for his plane ticket, and his hotel room, and his rental tux, which had just become unnecessary, and our meals. He had caught all of our cabs, and he made sure I made it to every place I was supposed to get to. Most importantly, he's better at photography than I could ever hope to be at Journalism, so this assignment could help both of us make names for ourselves, but I wanted all of the glory, and I didn't give a damn about what kind of person that made me.

"Young lady, are you sure you're alright? You don't look well. Maybe you've had too much cake."

I do feel a little queasy, but I think that has more to do with Robbie than with cake.

"I warned Poor True about putting sunflower seeds in the icing, because eating seeds isn't natural. In fact, eating icing is bad enough. Needless to say, Poor True was deaf to my wisdom. And, now, all of her guests will start dropping dead!"

"I'm hardly..."

"Don't speak! You must conserve your energy. Think of your health!"

"Right. Yes. Thank you, Mr..."

"Michael Woodwin, music producer and concerned citizen."

"Forgive me, sir, but I've never heard anyone in the music industry mention you."

"Therein lies the brilliance of my system," he beams.

"I'm afraid I don't understand."

"Take Evan Knight, who I'm certain you have heard of."

"Sure. He's the front man for the punk rock band Rabid Weasel, and your daughter's..."

"Best friend," he declares, with all of the vehemence he had possessed during his tirade against putting sunflower seeds in icing.

"Oh?"

I feel myself shrinking beneath his penetrating gaze. "Of course."

"Evan Knight talks about his first gig in a bowling alley, and he talks about the manager who signed him to his current label, but he never talks about me, so no one knows that I introduced him to his manager. You see, I am the middleman between getting discovered and having it all."

"But, why don't you want to work with the people who have it all?"

"I prefer almost-famous people. They're still trying to figure out who they want to be in this business, so I have a chance to steer them down a positive path."

If Harmony Woodwin was my golden ticket, I was almost-famous. An image of Robbie in his rental tux made my throat constrict. What path was I choosing?

"If only I had done better with Poor True! Now that she is getting married, she has decided to give up on her folk music. Everything would have been perfect if my daughter hadn't encouraged this relationship."

"I was hoping to meet Harmony."

He looks over his shoulder, where the wedding party has been posed along the edge of a fountain. "It looks like she's stuck doing pictures, so she might be awhile."

"Then I should visit the little girl's room."

"Sunflower seeds will do that to you. Good luck, young lady!"

I wave half-heartedly, before making my escape...right into a waiter's tray of vegan delicacies. The tray collided with the ground, and I collided with a muscular chest.

"If you are wanting to be meeting me so badly, why are you not to be saying hello?"

My victim gently disentangled me from his person, and he makes my knees knock with a dazzling smile.

"Hello," I whisper, and I stumble back to the seat beside Michael Woodwin, which is now occupied by his daughter.

Well, that's just FAN-FUCKING-TASTIC! How am I supposed to talk when I can't even breathe? Fortunately, Harmony gets the ball rolling.

"I'm Harmony Woodwin. I saw you sitting with my father earlier," she shakes my hand, before conspiratorially whispering in my ear, "I hope he didn't give you too much trouble. I know I sound like a terrible daughter, but he can come on a little strong."

"I'm Haley Jones."

"So YOU'RE Haley. Marge Bates mentioned you."

"I didn't realize I'd made such an impression."

Harmony's eyes roam from my pigtails, to my plaid blouse, to my denim skirt, to my red cowboy boots, and she screws up her face in what I can only assume is an effort not to laugh. I am no stranger to this reaction, so I stay calm. After all, a journalist must remain detached, no matter how impolite her subject.

"Are you here with Sven?"

"Sorry?"

"Sven Echnovich. He's People Magazine's best photographer. Not that you need to be reminded who you were just hugging."

"I wasn't hugging..."

"Don't worry! I'm the last person who will make you explain your relationship with a guy. People are always assuming that more is going on with my best friend than is going on with my best friend, which is BEYOND aggravating, so I NEVER meddle in other people's business, because I know how much it sucks to have people trying to stick their noses where their noses don't belong."

Damn! Did this girl EVER run out of words? I'd never have a chance to ask my questions if I didn't blurt them out.

"So, why the reality show?"

"You lost me."

"If you don't want people in your business, why bring cameras into your life?"

"How else will they know they're wrong about me and my best friend? Sometimes, it's not enough to tell people something, so you have to show them the truth."

I incline my head toward her camera crew of two. "This is a pretty extreme method of proving that you and your best friend are just best friends."

"Perhaps. I'm sure I have other motivations, but nothing is coming to mind at the moment. However, if you stick around, I'll come up with something less extreme."

"Does that mean we'll talk again?"

"Kid, you're stuck with me," she slings an arm around my shoulder, and I don't know if I should rejoice, because she's inviting me into her inner circle, or if I should cry, because I can tell that she has the power to turn my life upside-down.

non-damsel: Enter Elton!


	6. In Which I am NOT Obsessed

Author's Note: The second verse is the same as the first, because I STILL own NOTHING!

After True's rage against Sylas had been soothed, I started worrying about Brad and Dave. Should I make them leave? After all, what kind of person would turn her friend's wedding into an It's-all-about-MY-reality-show fest?

"True, I'm sorry I brought Brad and Dave. I'm just so used to having them around that I wasn't thinking."

"Be at peace, Harmony. They are more than welcome to stay, because I want your viewers to see my expression of love."

With that settled, I was able to focus on my biggest problem: my father. Frankly, I am amazed Daddy manages to leave the house. Ever since my mother's death, he sees danger everywhere. How was I going to keep him from harassing True and Warrens' guests? Fortunately, someone named Haley Jones kept Daddy entertained, while I was busy with the wedding photos.

Several days after the wedding, I decided that I should do a favor for Haley, but that would require some thought, which was impossible with Evan bitching at me.

"So, what am I in for today," Evan growls.

Ever since the wedding, he's been in a bit of a snit.

With a reluctance that irritates him further, I place my copy of today's Society Pages on my bed, after folding down the corner to mark my page. As I had admired the photographs from various events I had attended, I kept finding the same face. It was a face that I recognized from the pictures in Warren's wallet, because it belonged to none other than Sylas Cockerell. And yet...that was impossible! Sylas Cockerell was ruling the social scene in Europe, under the incredibly watchful eye of his aunt. He wasn't stalking little old me.

"Harm! Earth to Harm! I promise that picture isn't going anywhere."

"Oh! You're STILL here."

He looks taken aback. I'm a little taken aback myself, and even Brad, who I'm pretty sure doesn't have a conscience, seems surprised that I am capable of being cruel to Evan.

"Sorry. I just thought I recognized someone in these pictures."

He looks at where I'm pointing.

"Congratulations! You know what you look like."

"Not ME!" I jam my finger against the face so forcefully that I almost poke a hole through it.

"HIM! Don't you think he looks like Sylas Cockerell?"

"I think your obsession with Sylas Cockerell is making you hallucinate, because EVERYONE knows he's in Europe!"

Obsession? EXCUSE ME? Knowing that someone is your destiny does NOT make you obsessed!

"Evan, I don't want to fight with you," I purr, oozing sweetness.

I leave the bed, and join him on the floor. He doesn't move away, but he doesn't pull me closer either. I can't remember the last time we shared a space without casually touching. I feel alone, and I'm not sure why, but I know it sucks.

"What am I in for today? An autograph signing for screaming fanboys? A press junket for your book? A plane ride to a talk show?"

"None of the above."

"Does that mean there's some aspect of fame we haven't experienced yet?"

"Today, I have a date."

I must have imagined the flash of pain in his eyes.

"And who's the lucky gentleman?"

"You are! If you'll have me."

I give him my most irresistible puppy-dog eyes, and I grab his hand. After all, if he's not going to touch me, I may as well touch him, right?

"I'll have to check with my people, but I'll see what I can do."

Then, the diva actually makes ME wait, while he pulls out his cellphone and checks his calendar. Maybe I deserve it...a little, but I can't keep myself from losing patience at an alarming rate.

"Rabid Weasel is rehearsing tonight in Warren's garage. I guess you can tag along."

Geez! Could you at least try to contain your excitement?

"Why do you INSIST on playing in that garage? You know Daddy will give you the best studio space that money can buy!"

"I know he would, but I don't want to forget where I come from."

"What is THAT supposed to mean?"

"I wasn't talking about you Harmony, but, while we're on the subject: it wouldn't hurt you to be a little more grounded."

I chuck a pillow at him, but I know I'm fighting a losing battle, because his mouth opens, and snaps shut, and opens again.

"I don't think becoming a phenomenon is good for you. What happens when your show gets canceled?"

"IT WON'T!"

"IT WILL! Kate Plus 8 did, and think of those poor kids! They've spent their entire lives being handed trips to Disney World and anything else they could want. Now, they'll have to learn to handle "No," which is difficult for some people."

"So you're saying I can't handle something not going my way?"

"Well, you are a HUGE pain in the ass, but that's not what worries me."

"Please, Evan, tell me what worries you! All of the people watching my NOT-canceled reality show are just DYING to know!"

"Harmony, your happiness depends on being beloved by all. When your show is over, and you don't have as many adoring fans, how are you going to cope?"

"I DON'T NEED OTHER PEOPLE TO BE HAPPY!"

"Actually, Harm, you do. That's why I was worried about what would happen to you after True got married."

"Nothing is going to change between me and True just because she has Warren!"

"I really hope you're right, Harm, because you'll need someone to love you when the spotlight isn't on you anymore."

"I thought that's what you were for."

"You'll ALWAYS have me, but it doesn't hurt to have as many real friends as you can get."

"Then it sounds like I have no choice but to go to your rehearsal tonight."

"Damn right! How else will you hear the song I've written in your honor?"

"You wrote a song for me?"

"The only way to know for sure is if you show up."

"I'll be there."

"Seven o'clock."

"It's a date!"

He squeezes my shoulder, and he whistles as he climbs out of the window. Sometimes, making Evan Knight happy seems SO easy.

With Evan's comment about having as many real friends as possible thundering in my ears, I give Dave a thumbs-up, which means it's Confessional Time.

"Dave, I'm thinking about adoption."

"What are you saying, Harmony," he gulps.

I am insulted by the terror he isn't even attempting to hide.

"Haley Jones, the girl I talked to at the wedding, will make an excellent project!"

"She's a person, not a project!"

"Oh, you know what I mean," I waved my hand, as if to wave away his unnecessary concerns.

"Honestly, I have no clue WHAT you mean most of the time."

"But, you did see her, right?"

"I did."

"So you would agree that she could use a wardrobe that's fit to be seen in public, right?"

"Are you saying you want to dress this girl in clothes that you choose...like she's some kind of Barbie?"

"I understand how you came to that conclusion, but I don't want Haley to be my Barbie."

"Harmony, someone's appearance is not the most important thing."

"Dave, that's what ugly people say to keep themselves from committing suicide, and ugly people are wrong. Haley is pretty, so I want her to be taken seriously, but that will NEVER happen as long as she dresses like a three-year-old's cowgirl Halloween costume."

"You've seen plenty of badly-dressed people, Harmony. Why is this one so special?"

"She got along with my father, so I want to help her."

"Harmony, I don't think..."

Whatever he doesn't think becomes irrelevant when my cell phone rings. Clearly, the universe is trying to give me a sign about being on the right track, because my future adoptee is calling.

"Um...Harmony...I know we just met, but...I REALLY need your help!"

non-damsel: Here's a little Sylas intrigue, and a lot of Evan/Harmony, just for you!


	7. In Which I am NOT Okay with Candles

Author's Note: Austen gets all of the blame for Emma being such a bitch to poor, stupid Harriet, but I get all of the blame for Harriet being such a bitch to poor, besotted Mr. Martin.

When I return to my hotel room, three hours later than I had planned, because I had a hell of a time catching a cab, and, once I finally caught a cab, I couldn't remember where to tell the driver to go, Robbie is there...in his rental tux. My brain cannot process this data, so I collapse on the bed, stare at the ceiling, and attempt an apology.

"I'm sorry for..."

"Telling me to get lost?"

"That seems like a good place to start."

"Hales, I'm not sure what I've done wrong, but I know you resent me for something."

"This trip is supposed to be about ME!"

"Have I done anything to make this trip about ME?"

"Well...no...but..."

"I want you to succeed just as much as you do, so what makes you think that I would try to sabotage you?"

Why couldn't I just tell him that he had humiliated me in front of Marge Bates? Because...I didn't want to accept that I was the sort of person who could be humiliated by being seen with my best friend.

"I would NEVER do anything to hurt you, Haley! I'm in love with you. That's why I spent hours tracking down candles and matches and roses."

Robbie Martin is IN LOVE with me? That's just more data my brain can't process, so I stare at the dancing flames of the candles, and I pick up a rose petal from the pile at the foot of the bed. Why had it taken me so long to notice the atmosphere he was trying to create?

"I need your phone," I say.

Predictably, he gives me what I need, and I leave the room, without so much as a glance at Robbie.

It's a good thing I hadn't removed my coat, because the napkin Harmony had written her phone number on was still in my pocket. After I begged her to rescue me, I told her where I was staying, and she offered to play chauffeur. I waited for her in the lobby, because I WAS NOT going back to that room until I absolutely had to. Robbie, true to form, gave me my space. It killed me that he was so good to me, even when I was so bad to him.

I had almost talked myself into mending fences with Robbie, when I realized that Harmony was tugging impatiently on my sleeve.

"Harmony, I really appreciate this."

I don't remember leaving the lobby, but I must have, because I was in her passenger seat.

"Puh-LEAZE! You're doing ME the favor! My friend just got married, so I could totally use some retail therapy."

"You don't like the guy?"

"I CHOSE the guy! My best friend, Evan, just reminded me that True might not have as much time for me anymore, which was something I hadn't considered when I was ensuring her future happiness."

"My best friend, Robbie, just told me that he's in love with me."

"Oh? What does he do?"

This struck me as an odd response. Shouldn't her first question be "How do you feel about him?""

"He's a camera man."

"Who does he work for?"

"No one, at the moment. He's still learning."

At least her mouth wasn't set in that thin line anymore.

"How do you feel about him?"

"Actually, that's what I wanted to talk to you about. You're the closest thing I have to a girlfriend here, and I desperately need some advice."

"Well, you and I did just meet, and I haven't even SEEN Robbie, so I can't tell you what to do."

Something in my eyes must have softened her heart, because she rushed to soothe me: "Even though I can't tell you what to do, I don't see the harm in giving you my two cents."

I wasn't sure how telling me what to do and giving me her two cents weren't the same thing, but I wasn't about to argue with my potential salvation.

"Do you like Robbie?"

"Yes."

"How do you know?"

"He's nice to me."

"Other boys are nice."

"Okay?"

I thought about all of the times my pigtails had been pulled, and all of the times I had been pushed in the mud, and all of the times someone had reacted negatively toward my clothes. It seemed to me that Harmony might be over-estimating the niceness of boys.

"Haven't you ever met another nice boy?"

"No."

"That's the problem! You need to meet other boys!"

"But...Robbie is REALLY nice, so..."

"If you think Robbie is the nicest boy that you'll ever meet, I'll take you back to your hotel right now, and you can tell Robbie that you love him too. But, if you think there's a chance that you could EVER meet a boy who is nicer than Robbie, you owe it to yourself to keep your options open."

"So, I should tell Robbie that I don't love him, right?"

"If you're going to turn your best friend down, you have to be sure about what you want."

I took a minute to let Harmony's two cents sink in. If she had said "turn Robbie down," I would have said "HELL NO!" in a heartbeat, but "turn your best friend down" was a different story. Wasn't it? I couldn't risk losing my best friend. Then again, what if I gained a boyfriend without losing a best friend? Of course, that was a pretty big what if.

"You're right! I'm going to turn Robbie down," I declare, despite the watermelon-sized lump in my throat.

"Now that you have decided for yourself, I feel like I can tell you that you made the right choice. Besides, if you care about Robbie, you should want him to be with someone who returns his feelings."

Talking to Harmony Woodwin can put you into a trance, until she says something that make the warning sirens in your head start blaring. Did I really want someone else to be with Robbie? Maybe not. But I didn't know if I wanted to be with Robbie, which, as Harmony had pointed out, wasn't fair to him.

"Come on," Harmony commands.

Taking me by the hand, she drags me out of the food court, before I have a chance to feel guilty about leaving my trash on the table.

We turned the mall upside-down in our quest to find anything that wasn't plaid or fit for life in the country. Thirty bags worth of designer clothes later, I have no clue how I'll get everything into my suitcase, much less how I'll get it into my hotel room. Even though Harmony was kind enough to fund our shopping spree, I doubted that she would be kind enough to carry anything for me. I thought of Robbie, who would have carried more than thirty bags for me, and I felt terrible. It wasn't fair to compare Harmony with someone who had known me for years. Furthermore, it was even less fair to expect Robbie to do anything for me...given that I was about to dump him.

"I've been thinking about your situation."

"My situation?"

"You know, the reason you wanted to talk to me!"

"Right. Robbie."

"NOT Robbie! OTHER boys! I can introduce you to other boys, and I already know the PERFECT Bachelor Number One."

"I'm just not sure about..."

"You don't have to be sure, because I'M sure. Just promise to be at People Magazine's headquarters at 3:30 tomorrow afternoon."

Before I can protest, she shoves me, and my thirty bags, into a cab. I guess I will be schlepping my own stuff. What a perfectly shitty end to a perfectly shitty day!

Once I arrive in my room, I notice that the candles and the rose petals have been replaced by a note on the pillow that reads: "Take all the time you need. I'm not going anywhere." Something tells me this declaration wouldn't fit into Harmony's plan to introduce me to other boys. I'm not sure what it is about this assignment, but I've been handling EVERYTHING completely wrong. I NEVER should have gone to my interviewee for advice, and I certainly NEVER should have agreed to let her set me up while I'm working. There was nothing left to do but order ice cream from room service, and sob hysterically into the empty carton, because I knew I would be just where Harmony had told me to be tomorrow afternoon.

At 3:25, I staggered, as fast as I could, because heels are not my friends, to the Information Desk, where Marge Bates, and the atrocity that was intended to cover her crotch, was jabbering at Harmony. "Harmony Woodwin, light of my life, I wasn't expecting you until tomorrow! And you," she turned her beady gaze upon me, "I've seen you here before, but you'll have to forgive me for not remembering your name. When you meet one hundred people every day, most of whom aren't worth a first look, it takes someone out of the ordinary to make an impression. You wouldn't believe the girl who was in here this week! You would have thought she'd ridden her horse here all the way from her farm."

Fortunately, Harmony knew how to salvage the moment. "Marge, how is that LOVELY granddaughter of yours?"

There's nothing elderly people like discussing more than grandchildren and all the ailments that could kill them, so Marge beamed radiantly at Harmony.

"Well, I was going to save this news for tomorrow, but, since you're here now, I may as well tell you: Janet dearest will be visiting VERY soon! You must have heard of my granddaughter! Her name is Janet Featherstone. She's a pop-star owned by Disney. Her fan base is a bit younger than you, but she is one of those Justin Bieber types who EVERYONE knows about."

"I thought Janet was touring Europe right now."

"She's taking the summer off to visit her granny, but she has agreed to give a concert while she's here. And that brings me to the favor I wanted you to do for me, Harmony."

"You know I can't resist you, Marge."

Marge Bates tittered gaily, and I considered jamming my fingers into my ears, because her tittering was almost as nightmare-inducing as her pathetic excuse for clothes.

"I was hoping you would look after Janet dearest while she's here. After all, you know everyone she'll be dealing with from the music industry."

"You don't have to worry about Janet, Marge! She'll be in good hands."

I couldn't help noticing that Harmony didn't promise to deal with Janet personally. Was there bad blood between them? I can't imagine how that could be the case, because Harmony takes pride in being universally adored. I've learned that from the hours, upon hours, upon hours of Perfect Harmony footage I had watched.

"I hate to leave so soon, Marge, but we have an appointment on Seven, so I'll see you tomorrow for coffee."

"I'm looking forward to it, Harmony. Should I call Shelly on Five to tell her you're here."

"That's alright, Marge! The photographer knows I'm coming."

Pho what now?

Once we were safely on the elevator, Harmony explained, "I've been having coffee with Marge Bates since she started working here. It was Evan's idea. I guess he thought I could use a mature woman's influence, but I don't know why he chose a mature woman who wears shorter skirts than I do. Skirts aside, Marge is a good person, as long as you can stand all of the talking."

"What about her granddaughter?"

I had seen my opportunity to be a journalist, and I took it, even though I wasn't sure I would make it out of the elevator alive.

"What ABOUT her granddaughter?"

There was definitely something dangerous in her tone.

"You just didn't seem excited about babysitting duty."

"Would YOU want to babysit the most BORING eighteen-year-old in the world?"

"She can't be THAT bad! Didn't you say she's been to Europe?"

"I can think of a much more interesting person who has been to Europe," she waggles her eyebrows suggestively.

I'll have to remember to ask her about the interesting person who has been to Europe.

"I am going to reserve my judgment until I've met Janet."

Harmony frowned. I suspected that I wasn't being as obedient as she had expected.

"If her letters are anything to go by, and I suffer through one EVERY week, don't come crying to me when Janet Featherstone bores you to death!"

There was no time to defend Janet Featherstone, who could very well be the most boring eighteen-year-old in the world, because we were being kissed on both cheeks by Sven Echnovich.

non-damsel: Whew! This was doozy. Is it weird that I'm liking Emma more than Harriet right now? Up next: Frank Churchill!


	8. In Which I am NOT a Terrible Singer

Author's Note: I don't own the song, and I don't own the plot, but I do own Sven's not-at-all-Russian Russian accent.

"I am most pleased to be seeing two beautiful ladies in my studio."

"Cut the crap, Sven," I say, with a saucy wink.

"We're here for our closeups, and Haley is first."

As I shove Haley forward, I can see Dave scowling. I can also see Brad practically drooling over Sven's equipment, but none of that matters in comparison to the special attention Sven is giving Haley. He is posing her so artfully, and lighting her in a such a flattering way, and praising the genius of my choice of subjects.

"This one, she is truly to be a vision, Harmony."

She was indeed, and I was responsible for her beauty. Pride filled me. Pride and a revelation. When I brought Haley here to experience a photo shoot, I had known that she was acquainted with Sven, because I had seen them together at True's wedding, and I had toyed with the idea of Sven being Haley's Bachelor Number One, but I hadn't realized that Sven wouldn't need to be encouraged to fall for Haley, because he had already done it.

"You must let me to be paying for to have these pictures framed, Harmony."

"That's much too kind, Sven."

"I am to be happy to do it. For Harmony. And Harmony's pretty friend."

"Thank you," Haley squeaks, after glancing nervously at me.

"It is to be my pleasure. Are you both to be at the concert of Marge's granddaughter?"

"Only if you are going to be there, Sven."

I decide this is a good time to lay it on a little thick, so I bat my eyelashes.

"Then, I MUST to be coming. Where will I to be finding you?"

"I'll give you a call when I know where we'll be sitting, but I'm sure Daddy will have a section reserved for us."

"You should to be near the reporters then."

"If they're lucky. Come along, Haley! We've caused as much trouble as we can for one day."

I elbow Haley in the back, to remind her that she had to move if we were going to leave.

In the car, Haley's powers of speech returned.

"What the HELL was that?"

Frankly, I had expected gratitude, but I managed to keep my temper in check.

"That was me helping you take advantage of the fact that you look damn good."

"You think I look good?"

Her naivete is endearing, and I can't help but smile.

"I do, and so does Sven."

"How do you know?"

Her words were laced with suspicion, but her eyes were alight with hope, which meant I had been right about Sven being the perfect Bachelor Number One.

"Because he called you my 'pretty friend.' Besides, I have a sixth sense when it comes to potential relationships."

I was anticipating some sign of joy, but I got nothing. What was holding her back?

"Even if he does like me..."

I had to bite my tongue to keep myself from yelling that he did. The secret to matchmaking is giving your matchmakees enough time to digest and accept your wisdom.

"This isn't the right time for me to get involved with someone."

I couldn't deny that she had a point. She had just turned down her best friend, so jumping right into a relationship wasn't the best idea. But I couldn't see the harm in keeping Sven interested until she was ready for something serious. After all, judging by what I had witnessed at the photo shoot, I knew Sven would be willing to wait for her.

"Is it the wrong time to be Sven's friend?"

I watched her fists unclench.

"Being friends is fine."

It was my turn to relax, because friends was a very good place to start.

When I got home, I found Evan on my bed. He was getting entirely too comfortable there, which was something we would have to discuss when he wasn't scowling at me.

"Thanks for coming to my band rehearsal the other night. It REALLY meant a lot to me."

How immature can you be? GOD! We've been friends for practically our whole lives, and I've only made ONE mistake, so he should be praising me...instead of bitching at me.

"Can you be a little less dramatic, Evan? It's not like you actually wrote a song for me."

"I did, but that's not the point."

Any argument I could have made vanished from my brain. Evan Knight had written a song...for ME!

"Harmony, the next time you decide to stand me up, you HAVE TO call me, so I won't be terrified that you're dead in a ditch somewhere."

"Evs, if I was dead in a ditch, you'd know about it, because it would be on TV."

"Idiot. If you were dead in a ditch, it wouldn't be on TV, because Brad and Dave would be dead too."

Brad shook his head.

"Well, Dave would be dead. Brad would do whatever he had to to survive."

Brad gave him a thumbs-up.

"So...where were you while my heart was breaking?"

"When you weren't talking to me at True and Warren's wedding, I met someone, and we were hanging out."

Let him stew about that for awhile! Me? Dead? In a ditch? AS IF! I wouldn't be caught dead in ditch. Ditches can ruin your clothes.

"Was he...uh...nice to you?"

I had no idea what Evan was trying to ask me, but I was touched by his concern for my well-being.

"SHE was very nice. I saw her talking to my father, and I was impressed that she didn't run away screaming, so I invited her to go shopping with me."

Even though Evan was my best friend, I decided to keep Haley's breakdown about her love life to myself.

"And does this friend have a name?"

"Yes. This friend does. Her name is Haley, and I took her to get her picture taken today."

"Oh? Who was the photographer?"

"What?"

"Who took the pictures, Harm?"

"What are you yelling about?"

"This is NOT me yelling! You don't want to be around me when I start yelling. Trust me. This is me raising my voice because you're plotting something, and you're trying to involve Haley."

"I DON'T PLOT!"

"If only that were true!"

"All I did was help Haley get to know Sven."

"What does THAT mean, Harmony?"

"It means, EVAN, that I want to help my friend make other friends, so I gave her the opportunity to spend time with one of my friends."

"Bad things happen when you help, Harm."

I stick my tongue out at him.

"How does buying someone suitable clothes and asking Sven to take her picture lead to bad things?"

"With normal people, it doesn't, but with you..."

He looked so defeated that I almost felt sorry for him.

"I'm surprised Sven agreed to work for free."

"He did more than just work for free! He was also very complimentary."

"To Haley, or to you?"

"To HALEY, of course."

"If you say so, but I wouldn't get my hopes up if I were you, because whatever romance you're concocting in your head right now isn't going to work out."

"What makes YOU such an expert on Sven?"

"Look at his track record! Have you ever seen him with anybody that you would consider a nobody?"

"No, but maybe he's ready for a change. After all, I was right about True and Warren!"

"Yes, you were, and I really wish you hadn't been, because I won't be able to talk sense into you from now on!"

"Then what are you still doing here?"

"I really wish I knew."

He didn't leave, but he did lapse into a morose silence for the next two hours.

The phone rang as Gerard was painstakingly applying his final coat of Va-Va-Vixon nail polish. There was only one person with such evil timing, so, with a heavy sigh, Gerard answered the phone.

"Good evening, sir."

"I trust you know why I'm not happy, Gerard."

Gerard doubted that his new boss could be happy.

"I was watching the security feed, sir, and I know Harmony Woodwin and Haley Jones were here together. Sven was informed of your plans for the girls before they arrived."

"Well, at least you did ONE thing right, Gerard."

"Sir, I can't control where Harmony Woodwin goes."

"You're right again, Gerard. Congratulations! I realize that Harmony is a loose cannon, but Haley Jones is another story."

"What do you want me to do, sir?"

"I'm very pleased you asked me that Gerard! I want you to keep Haley away from here from now on. All it would take to let the cat of out of the bag is Haley saying something like: "Let's make Sven give us a tour of People's offices, because, after I get my big break by interviewing you, People will be my future." to Harmony."

"How do you want me to keep Haley away, sir?"

"I want you to become her friend, so you can keep an eye on her. Marge's granddaughter is giving a concert, and that would be the perfect opportunity for you to make your move."

"Sir, I can't believe you're trying to set me up with a GIRL!"

"Adversity is good for us all, Gerard! By the way, that nail polish was an excellent choice."

Gerard considered giving the finger to the telephone from whence the loathsome voice came, but he decided against it, because his boss was clearly aware of his activities.

When True heard the doorbell ring at two o'clock in the morning, she was expecting to find Harmony waiting to be let in. Instead, she found Evan.

"I hope you're not here to confess your love for me again, because the last time you tried that..."

"Warren gave me one of his special brownies, and I was too sick to perform the next day."

"It served you right!"

"There won't be any declarations of love this time, True. I promise. Besides, I brought flowers last time."

"They were lovely. Even Warren enjoyed them."

"I wanted to talk about Harmony."

"That's not exactly a surprise."

"I don't talk about her THAT much."

"You do, Man, and it's not cool," Warren countered.

He never left True and Evan alone for very long, even though Evan had never told True that he loved her. All he had done was jokingly beg True not to marry Warren, because he was certain he couldn't handle Harmony without her help.

"I'M here to listen to whatever you have to say, Evan," True glared at Warren, who retreated into the house.

"Well, Harmony has this new friend..."

"Haley. Harmony's been telling me about her, and I think it's groovy."

"I'm just concerned about Harmony's motives."

"Motives? What motives? I'm busy with Warren, and Harmony needs someone, so I'm happy she has Haley."

"But, she already has ME."

"Harmony is a social creature, so she needs more than one friend, but I'm sorry that makes you jealous."

"Jealousy isn't groovy man," Warren said, as he inched toward the doorway. "You need to find your peace."

"I would be able to find my peace if I wasn't so worried about whatever Harmony has planned for Haley."

"I still don't understand why you think she's planning something."

"Harmony is ALWAYS planning something, so what she really needs is a friend who knows how to avoid getting involved in her plans."

"I went along with her plan when I married Warren. Does that mean I've been a bad friend for Harmony?"

"True, you know that's not what I meant! I can't stand having you mad at me, so let's part as friends."

"You two should call a truce over brownies," Warren suggested.

"NO," Evan and True shouted simultaneously.

I watch the kites skittering across the sky, and I am envious. What wouldn't I give to be able to soar among the clouds right now, instead of being tethered to Janet Featherstone. Isn't hearing Marge Bates gush about her, then read one of her letters, then gush about her some more, once a week punishment enough? WHY must I give up my Saturday to babysit my nemesis? No one who knew what to do with star power would have given a free concert, or gone to the local orphanage to invite the orphans. What is with this girl? Is she trying to be the next Mother Theresa? Even the snacks she requested are saintly: Diet Coke and carrot sticks.

As I am working myself into quite a state over the injustice of Janet Featherstone's existence, some oaf in overalls and a plaid shirt has the gall to walk right into me.

"If you're looking for the hoedown, you're in the wrong place, pal," I snarl.

"Actually, I'm looking for someone named Haley Jones. You wouldn't happen to know who I'm talking about, would you?"

"I've never met Haley Jones. Sorry."

Without sparing him another glance, because I don't need to be blinded by a fashion emergency on top of everything else, I make my way to the backstage area, where Janet is waiting for her snacks.

"Your grandmother tells me that you've been in Europe."

"Yes."

"That must have been exciting."

"Yes."

"I know someone else who has been in Europe."

"Oh?"

"You've probably heard of him. His name is Sylas Cockerell."

"We've met."

"Really?"

Who knew that talking to Janet Featherstone might not be a total waste of time?

"Yes."

"I haven't actually met him, but I've heard enough about him to feel like I know him. His half-brother is a friend of mine."

"Oh?"

"What is he like? Is he gorgeous? I'll bet he's gorgeous!"

"He's not the ugliest person I've ever seen."

"Is he funny? I've always believed that he is hilarious."

"He made me laugh."

I wasn't able to continue my interrogation, because the damn orphans had expectations about hearing Janet sing, but this dog wasn't about to let the bone of Janet-knows-Sylas-Cockerell go un-chewed forever.

"When a goodbye kiss feels like this," Janet sings.

"She's prettier than I thought she would be," Evan whispers, and I elbow him savagely in the ribs.

Part of me is pleased to hear his groan, but most of me is wrapped up in the story Janet is telling, so wrapped up, in fact, that I forget the song is a duet.

"Don't you wanna stay here a little while?"

Apparently, her duet partner has been hiding backstage.

"Don't you wanna hold each other tight?"

The voice is getting closer, but we still can't see the singer.

"Don't you wanna fall asleep with me tonight?"

Suddenly, the owner of the voice is visible. WHAT THE FUCK? Why is MY Sylas Cockerell singing a duet with Janet Featherstone?

While I am alternately seething and swooning, they reach the final chorus, and Sylas stops singing.

"There is someone very special in the audience, who I would like to join me on stage. Harmony Woodwin, would you come up here? Please?"

As I make my way through the crowd, I feel like I'm floating. When Sylas takes my hand, a jolt of electricity traveles from the top of my head to the tips of my toes.

"Don't you wanna stay here a little while?"

He aims the microphone at my face.

"D...d...don't you wanna hold each other tight?"

Now that he knows I can carry a tune, Sylas hands the microphone to me, and I bring the house down.

When I finish being awesome, Sylas looks into my eyes, picks me up, twirls me around, and carries me off of the stage. It is an exit that will keep the locals talking for years, and it won't hurt Perfect Harmony's ratings either.

non-damsel: Here's your Sylas, Girl! Also: I included a teensy bit of Knightley/Miss Taylor bonding, which I wouldn't have ever thought of without your stories. Now I need to figure out a way to steal Miss Moppet.


	9. In Which We Tell You Things

Author's Note: To keep the point of views alternating, I had to do a combo chapter. Sorry for the confusion. Also: I own NOTHING!

HALEY WANTS YOU TO KNOW THAT:

I ran into Gerard at Janet's concert, and I asked him to give me a deadline, because I was pretty sure Celeste Goddard hadn't intended for me to stay here forever. Instead of giving me a deadline, Gerard told me that my assignment would last for as long as it took for me to get a decent interview.

"What do you mean by 'decent'?"

I had covered all of the basics of a typical celebrity interview, and everything I hadn't thought to ask could be answered by watching Perfect Harmony.

"A decent interview includes answers to questions that no one else has thought to ask."

That settles it: I'm screwed! How am I supposed to think of questions that veterans haven't thought of? The closest I had come was asking Harmony what she did for Mother's Day.

"I know your mom isn't in the picture, but I was wondering if you celebrated for her?"

"Has anyone ever told you that you ask A LOT of questions?"

That was Harmony's go-to joke. And yet...sometimes I got the feeling that she was surprised that I was asking her questions. And her surprise surprised me. Had the media frenzy that surrounded her taught her nothing about what reporters did?

Even though thinking of questions to ask was a bitch, and finding opportunities to ask them was a bitch, because Harmony was ALWAYS talking, and knowing that most of Harmony's answers, assuming she was willing to play along, weren't worth writing down was a bitch, I was determined to see my assignment through to the end, which I suspected would be bitter.

In the most secret places in my heart, I knew I was sticking it out for Sven Echnovich, who had impressed me with his attentiveness to Harmony's father. I knew from firsthand experience what a handful Michael Woodwin could be, and Sven had gone so far as to command the housekeeping staff to keep the fire burning, because 'Mr. Woodwin mustn't to be catching a cold.' Granted, it was the middle of August, but I appreciated the gesture. Even if the men in suits, and the women with makeup running down their faces, did not.

Harmony was convinced that Sven liked me, because he was everywhere I was, but I knew better: he wasn't following me; he was following Harmony.

"He's here for you, Harmony," I would say.

"But I wasn't the one he was talking to by the refreshment table for, like, a billion years!"

"He was talking about YOU."

"But he was looking at YOU, and it was super intense."

"Really?"

"Oh yeah."

She sounded so certain that I started buying everything she was selling. Everything Sven said had something to do with Harmony, but it was easy enough to convince myself that he was REALLY focused on his job, which was taking pictures for the piece I was supposed to be writing. Hadn't I told Robbie a camera man would just appear? And, all of a sudden...BOOM! I had collided with one. Maybe Harmony was right. Maybe Fate had brought us together.

As I was re-watching my all-time favorite movie, Never Been Kissed, not that I needed to watch it, because I had it memorized, I began to wonder if my first attempt at reporting would mirror Josie's. Would my finished product be less about Harmony and more about how my journey had changed me? Up to this point, how had I changed? For starters: I had hidden Robbie's "Take all the time you need. I'm not going anywhere." note in the bottom of my suitcase, and I hadn't seen him since Janet's concert.

"This is Robbie," Evan had said, as he pointed at my overall-wearing former best friend.

Everyone mumbled unenthusiastic hellos, and Evan glared at Harmony. For about a second, I wondered what had happened that I wasn't aware of, but Sven had put his arm around my shoulders, and he was announcing that he was going to give me a ride, so nothing else mattered.

"Bye, Hales," Robbie had said, and I just nodded, before following Sven.

But what was most troubling, or most romantic, was my growing collection of Sven mementos. I had saved ticket stubs from movies, and place cards with his name on them, and the tissue he had given me, and the pictures of me he had payed to have framed.

Between obsessing about Sven, neglecting my assignment, and lying to Gerard about how much work I had done whenever I saw him, which was a disturbing amount, because...if he wasn't gay, I would have sworn he was stalking me, I didn't realize just how far in over my head I had gotten.

HARMONY WANTS YOU TO KNOW THAT:

After Sylas swept me off my feet, literally, and carried me off of the stage, we became inseparable. Which is as it should be. Warren was immediately overcome by the groovy-ness of his half-brother and his wife's best friend being meant to be. It took True five seconds longer to come around. She understood Sylas's obligation to his aunt in theory, but he had to explain it in his own words before she was able to fully let go of the resentment she had been harboring toward his absence from her wedding.

"True, I know you must hate me for missing the wedding, because I hate me for missing the wedding, but I just couldn't get here sooner! In fact, I'd STILL be in Europe if my aunt didn't have a company here that needed saving. After my mother died, I would have ended up on the street if she hadn't given me a place to stay. She also kept me fed, and clothed, and educated, and she showed me the world. However, I can't forgive her for not letting me have a relationship with Warren, especially now that I've met you, and I know what I would have missed out on if I hadn't been given this opportunity to visit."

Was he laying the charm on a little thick? Perhaps, but I was willing to let it slide, because I wanted True to get along with my destiny.

I happened to glance down at my diamond-encrusted watch, and I saw just how screwed I was.

"Holy shit! I'm late for a press conference!"

True pulls me off the couch.

"Oh God! WHERE'S MY PHONE? I HAVE TO call Evan!"

"I can take you, Harmy."

Harmy? That's adorable! Sylas puts a steadying hand on my shoulder, and I force myself to breathe.

"I couldn't ask you to do that. It's too much trouble," I bat my eyelashes.

How was I able to be coy at a time like this? Apparently, I have greater powers than I realized.

"Nonsense," he takes my hand, and he leads me to his car. My fingers are still tingling long after he lets go.

At the press conference, Sylas makes the crowd part, so I can get to the stage, and he sits beside me, like he belongs there. A stunned silence follows, before we are blinded by a million camera flashes. Sylas waits for the ruckus to die down, and then, he addresses the salivating masses.

"As you can see, Harmony Woodwin and I are very much in love."

Then, he takes me in his arms, and he dips me. The photographs make it seem like we were making out, but he was really winking at me, and whispering, "If they want a show, what do you say we give 'em one?"

"I say "HELL YEAH"," I whispered back.

We were on the cover of every tabloid for weeks, which was how long Evan wouldn't talk to me.

"True, I don't know how much longer I can stand this," I whine.

I had come to visit Sylas, but he was at work, so I aired my grievances about Evan to True.

"I can't understand what I've done to make Evan stop talking to me."

"Really?"

Disbelief is written all over her face, which makes me even more confused, and a little angry.

"Really!"

"Well, when did it start?"

"He's been avoiding me since Janet's concert."

"What happened at Janet's concert?"

Had Janet done something worth remembering? Suddenly, I felt a pang of regret, as I recalled the moment when Evan had introduced Robbie to the group, and his eyes had pierced me, because he knew that I had tried to keep Robbie away from Haley. Of course, that hadn't been such a big deal.

"Sylas showed up."

"Maybe Evan has a problem with Sylas."

"That doesn't make sense! Evan has known that I'm going to end up with Sylas for years, and he's been fine with it."

"Maybe he's not fine with it now that it's really happening."

"I don't know what you're trying to say, True!"

"I'm saying that I'll sort this out, and you can go get ready for your date tonight. You and Sylas are going to see The Rocky Horror Picture Show, right?"

"Yep. We're going to the midnight showing, and Sylas is going to be one HOT drag queen!"

And he was, with his fishnets, and thigh-high boots, and leather jacket, and leather skirt, and Bride of Frankenstein wig, and enormous hoop earrings, and makeup, and fake boobs.

At 11:30, when we arrived at the theater, Evan and Janet were already there.

"Hey," Evan says to me.

Janet doesn't say anything. I guess she used up all of her words during the non-conversation we had before her concert. Evan looks glum, probably because all of the other guys are dressed like Sylas, and he and Janet are dressed like they're going to a church picnic.

"Hey," I smile, and he smiles back.

It's a start, and I'm relieved.

"I need salt," Sylas says.

"I need sugar," I say.

"We'll go save some seats," Evan says, and I get an odd feeling in the pit of my stomach as Janet follows him.

What if something happens between them in the dark? After all, Rocky Horror is all about releasing your inhibitions. I'm imagining Janet singing "Touch-A Touch-A Touch Me" to Evan, when Sylas gives me my sugar. I tear into the package right there.

"You're a little bit scary," Sylas says, and he pats me on the head.

"So...Evan and Janet...Do you think there's something there?"

"God no," I snort.

"But they're here TOGETHER."

"True invited Evan because she wanted him to start talking to me again, and she probably included Janet because she felt sorry for her."

"I can see that, because Janet doesn't have many friends."

"Because she's always on tour?"

"Because she's put-you-into-a-coma BOR-ING."

"But you sang with her, so she can't be THAT bad."

I'd been wondering how their duet had come to pass.

"Boring people can have good voices, but singing is all I would EVER do with the likes of Janet Featherstone."

It seems that Sylas hates Janet, which is just another reason to love him.

When Sylas heard the knock on the door, he wasn't expecting to find Evan on the other side.

"If the media is right about you dating Harmony...DON'T break her heart, because I know people who can make you disappear."

Evan walked away before Sylas could think of a response that wouldn't inspire Evan to make good on his threat.

non-damsel: MUAHAHAHAHA! It is finished! I think I was struggling so much because this is a transition chapter, and I SUCK at transition chapters.


	10. In Which I am NOT a Good Climber

Author's Note: All that is AWESOME belongs to Austen!

When I enter True's guest room, I am greeted by darkness.

"Sy," I call softly.

He grunts, and he turns on the bedside lamp.

His cellphone is pressed against his ear, but he's not talking to anyone. His face is pale, and he's staring at nothing.

"Are you alright? You look like you've just seen a ghost! Was that Janet on the phone? I know how much you HATE her."

I'm not sure what made me think that Sylas Cockerell would have conversations over the phone with Janet Featherstone, but they had sung a duet together, so anything was possible.

"Hate her? What? Oh...right...We are hating her, aren't we?"

"OH MY GOD! What's WRONG?"

If he didn't remember that we are anti-Janet Featherstone, now and forever, some SERIOUS shit had gone down.

"That was my aunt's butler. He says she's gotten worse, which means I have to go back to Europe."

"Isn't your aunt ALWAYS getting worse?"

It probably wasn't the most tactful question to ask, but Sylas would be the first person to tell you that his aunt wasn't above manipulation.

"So she says, but this time it's the butler, so I actually believe it. If this weren't an emergency, he wouldn't bother me while I'm working."

"But...what about ME?"

"What about YOU?"

He threw a dart at the dart board, which had a picture of a lady's face drawn on it. I assumed the lady was his aunt. The dart hit her left eye.

"What am I going to do while you're gone?"

"Do Evan!"

"HEY! I know you're worried about your aunt..."

"Yeah. I'm worried that she WON'T die."

"But that's no reason to take your feelings out on me!"

"I'm sorry, Harmy. It's just...I thought she was done trying to keep me away from you guys. And, now...she's doing it AGAIN! If I didn't owe her so much, I would just let her die alone."

"You don't mean that!"

Sometimes, the intensity of his hatred concerned me. It was one thing to HATE someone, but it was another thing to HATE! someone.

"I wish I didn't. I hope that doesn't ruin your good opinion of me."

"You could NEVER ruin my good opinion of you, Sy! You've just...dented it a little. So, stop worrying about me, and start packing your things!"

"Yes, MA'AM!"

He salutes me.

"Before I leave you to it, you have to promise to call me as often as you can."

"Yes, Ma'am."

"And you have to remember that I'll be waiting for your return."

"Yes, Ma'am."

He gives me a quick kiss on the forehead, and gently shoves me out the door.

Since meeting Haley, and deciding that she desperately needed Sven Echnovich in her life, for her own good, of course, I had been spending less time at Rabid Weasel's rehearsals, and more time facilitating opportunities for Haley and Sven to be in the same place at the same time. When I discovered that my inspirational calendar had been vandalized (the quote this month is "You are the queen of your own universe!"), I knew Evan had been in my room again. I absolutely HAD TO discuss increased security measures with Dave, because this unprovoked attack had taken place while I was sleeping.

"Dave," I croak, through my mouthful of toothpaste, "you CAN'T just let Evan waltz in here whenever he feels like it!"

"I thought Evan had an all-access pass."

"To my ROOM?"

"To wherever you are."

Then, the bastard takes out his cellphone, and he shows me a video of my most-likely-drunken declaration that Evan was welcome wherever I was. GAH! HATE THE INCRIMINATING TECHNOLOGY!

"You may disregard that, Dave, because I was under the influence."

"Actually, that's you sober."

"I really screech and flail about like that?"

"I don't want to lose my job, and I like you, but...mostly...I just don't want to lose my job, so I plead the fifth."

"I like you too, Dave. You always make sure Brad shoots my best angles, so your betrayal is forgiven...for now. However, would you at least tell me what Evan was doing in my room last night?"

"He wasn't pushing your hair out of your eyes, and he wasn't kissing you. That's for sure!"

"Silence is golden, Bradley," Dave hisses.

"What WAS he doing?"

"He said Rabid Weasel has a gig, and he wanted to write the details on your calendar, so..."

"So you wouldn't break his heart by not showing up!"

"BRADLEY!"

"Don't worry about it, Dave! Evan was just joking about his heart breaking. If he sneaks in here again, tell him I'll be there."

Evan's gig turned out to be the grand opening of a club called Purgatory, which the A-Listers had been raving about for months. Obviously, I couldn't be pissed at him for manipulating me into going to an event that promised to be the talk of the town. But I sure would have liked to be pissed at him. Anyway! Haley and I hadn't been taking in our surroundings for more than five minutes when a male someone started whispering in my ear.

"Hell-O, Gorgeous!"

I barely had time to register that the whisperer was Sven, because he and Haley were making their way through the crowd, in an effort to reach the dance floor. HOW RUDE! Don't get me wrong: I wanted Sven to want Haley. And yet...if you're going to whisper in someone's ear, you should at least have the decency to follow through with a dance before you move on to someone else. Nevertheless, Sven kept staring at me over Haley's shoulder, so I kept smiling, and waving, and nodding, and winking. Yes, I see you. Yes, I approve. Yes, you're dancing with someone else, when you should have been dancing, just ONCE, with me. Before I figured out how to exact my revenge upon Sven, ANOTHER male someone was whispering in my ear. Apparently, I am the flame, and the ENTIRE male population is the moth that refuses to leave me alone.

"Hey, you."

"WHAT," I bellow, enraged.

"Harm, would you mind going easy on my hearing? I need my ears to pay the bills."

"Sorry," I say, not because it is true, but because it is something that will help Evan move on to what he really wants to talk to me about. There must be something, right, because he wouldn't just come into my room to...what had Brad said? 'Push the hair out of my eyes and kiss me?' AS IF!

"What's going on, Evs?"

It takes every ounce of willpower I possess for me to keep myself from impatiently tapping my foot.

"We've already discussed this, but, because you didn't listen last time, I hope you will listen this time: you need to stop what you're doing!"

"What am I doing?"

"You're trying to set up Haley and Sven, and it's not going to work."

"How do you know? Have you been watching them dance?"

"I've been watching Sven watch you watching them dance."

"Huh?"

"Sven likes YOU. He doesn't like Haley, so, if Haley really is your friend, you'll leave her alone."

"Good friends don't leave their friends alone!"

"Oh, Harmony...," he melodramatically sighs.

"That's why you keep sneaking into my room, isn't it?"

"What?"

"Instead of leaving me alone, you sneak into my room!"

"If my presence bothers you so much, I'll stay away."

"That's not what I want!"

"What DO you want?"

"I want us to be best friends again, and I want you to like Sylas."

"Me liking Sylas is NEVER going to happen."

"Not even for me?"

"Not even for you."

"But there's NOTHING you wouldn't do for me!"

"There are LOTS of things I wouldn't do for you, and liking Sylas is one of those things."

"Well, I would do ANYTHING for you!"

"Would you like Janet Featherstone for me?"

"I would tolerate her for you."

"You would 'tolerate' her? That's BULLSHIT, Harm! You haven't said one word to her for weeks."

"I've been busy."

"That's the problem! You've been busying ruining "your friend's" chance at happiness with Robbie Martin, who is very good people, by the way, because you want Haley to be with someone who likes YOU."

"How do YOU know what kind of people Robbie Martin is?"

"After you lied to him about not knowing Haley at Janet's concert, we went out for a drink, and he couldn't stop talking about her. No one will ever love Haley as much as Robbie does, so you FUCKED UP, Kid. And Haley is the one who has to suffer."

"Haley deserves someone who is worthy of her!"

"ROBBIE deserves someone who is worthy of him, which isn't Haley...now that you've gotten your claws into her."

If I hadn't noticed Sven and Haley whirling their way back to us, much to the disgust of everyone they bumped into, I would have kicked Evan's ass right there.

"You can to be leaving now, Evan! For I am to be taking the girls home."

Sven hooked his arm through mine.

"I guess that means I'll see you the next time you sneak into my room."

"I thought you didn't like me doing that."

"I don't, but I know you'll do it anyway," I call over my shoulder.

I was so preoccupied with images of Evan pushing the hair out of my eyes, and kissing me, and killing Sylas in a duel for my heart, that I didn't even notice Haley wasn't in the backseat anymore, until Sven parked the car in an empty lot. HOLY CRAP! Where were we? Was I going to die here? I hadn't even had a chance to tell Sylas that... Hell, I hadn't even had a chance to tell Evan that...Honestly, I wasn't sure what I wanted to tell to whom, but I knew I wanted out of this car! I was banging against the window and rattling the door handle, when Sven decided to make the moment even worse.

"You are to be wild in the heat of passion!"

The heat of WHAT now?

"I wasn't to be certain of your heart until this night."

How is SVEN 'certain of my heart' when I don't have a fucking clue what's going on?

"What do you mean, Sven?"

"It is to be obvious that you are wanting to be loving me."

"How is it obvious?"

I tried to ignore the sweat trickling down my back, because it felt disgusting, and I needed to focus on escaping.

"You were to be asking me to spend time with you for weeks! And, tonight, you were to be smiling at me when I danced with your friend."

"Sven, you and I have been hanging out so much lately because I wanted you to get to know to Haley. And I was smiling at you tonight, because you were dancing with HALEY."

"Why are you to be talking about your friend?"

"Because...you like my friend."

"Your friend is to be a NOTHING! I am to be loving YOU."

"You don't LOVE me, Sven! You're just attracted to famous girls."

"I am to be loving you, Harmony! I have never to be waiting so long for anyone else. Let me to be proving it to you!"

His idea of proving his love was hurling himself at my mouth, while I struggled beneath him. FINALLY, I managed to claw at his cheek, and, when he reared back in astonishment, I slammed my fist against the unlock button on the driver's side. It was one of those bizarre moments when everything is happening so fast, but you feel like you're watching yourself move in slow motion. After I attacked the unlock button, I opened my door, rolled out of my seat, and hit the ground with a sickening thud. Parking lots are not the most comfortable places to land, because of all the loose gravel. In fact, Sven's car was already zooming away before I had removed all of the gravel bits from my knees. Having escaped successfully, all I could do was call Dave. Fortunately, I had thought to grab my purse, mid-undignified exit.

"Harmony Woodwin, do you know what having the day off means?"

Did he really have to bite my head off right now? Some White Knight!

"Actually, I do! It means that I don't have to deal with Brad's camera right now."

"YOU don't want to be filmed? WHAT happened?"

"I didn't return Sven's feelings, so he left me in a parking lot, and you get to be my hero."

To my EXTREME relief, he didn't ask me why I hadn't called Evan, but I suspected that question would come sooner than I was ready to answer it.

For the next three days, I avoided Evan and Haley, which gave me plenty of time to think about how much I missed Sylas, and how angry I was that some old lady I would never meet had stolen him from me, and how much all of this missing him, and aunt-resentment, must mean that I was deeply in-like with Sylas Cockerell. More in-like than I had ever been when he was my destiny-who-I-had-yet-to-meet. On the morning of the fourth day after The Parking Lot Incident, Evan is next to me when I wake up.

"I decided I had resisted your charms long enough, so here I am!"

"Lucky me," I deadpan.

"I was starting to worry that something happened when Sven took you home."

For an instant, Evan looked menacing, and I began to fear for Sven's life, before I realized that he didn't deserve my concern.

"It wasn't anything that I couldn't handle."

Evan relaxed against the headboard, and I could breathe again.

"If that were true, you wouldn't have avoided me."

"How can I avoid you when you're ALWAYS in my bed? I think I should start charging you rent."

"I just wanted to make sure you were alright, Harm, but I won't make that mistake again!"

"You don't have to babysit me, Evan, so you should just leave! NOW!"

Evan didn't bother climbing out of the window. He just stormed out of my room through the door, like a normal person.

"Do you ever get tired of kicking him out of your room," Dave asks, as Brad does his typical Satanic cackling.

Like you wouldn't believe!

"I just bumped into Evan on my way upstairs. What did you DO to him?"

"SY," I squeal, and I tackle him.

"I just told Evan that I'm NOT his business."

"Are you MY business?"

"I certainly hope so."

"I guess that means you agree to be my date to the surprise Welcome Home Party True is throwing for me tomorrow night."

"I guess it does."

"What time should I pick you up?"

"Uh...why don't I just meet you there?"

I couldn't say for sure why I didn't want Sylas to pick me up, but I suspected it had something to do with being in such a shitty place with Evan. Not that Evan would know how I had gotten to True's. I just felt...guilty about Sylas. Except...I don't do guilty! So, I felt...like I didn't want to do anything that would piss Evan off even more. On the other hand, I was in-like with Sylas, so Evan should accept the fact that he would be on my arm at events!

"There works for me, as long as you promise that we can make a grand entrance."

Sylas gently pushes me off of him, and he helps me get off of the floor.

"I thought a grand entrance was the only kind of entrance you could make."

"I'll see you tomorrow night, Harmy," he chuckles.

Once Sylas was gone, I fell back onto my bed, and tried to ignore Brad's snickering. How had everything gotten so fucked up between Evan and me? And, more importantly, how was Haley going to react when I told her that Sven was interested in ME?

True was gathering the dirty desert plates, when Marge exclaimed,"You wouldn't BELIEVE what someone sent Janet dearest this week! A new guitar! A new, PINK guitar! With an inscription! Tell them about the inscription, Janet dearest! It reads: "To the one who tugs at my heartstrings and fills my life with music." Isn't that just adorable? It's simply adorable! And SO romantic! I couldn't believe my eyes when she pulled it out of the box, could I, Janet dearest?"

"Someone sent YOU a guitar?"

I had noticed the derision in Sylas's tone, so I gave him a reproving look, and he winked saucily at me. Cheeky bastard!

Janet dabbed at her eyes with her napkin, and I felt a momentary stab of sympathy for her. "Allergies," she explained, pretty damn unconvincingly, and she left the table. I considered going after her, to apologize for Sylas's mean-spirited remark, but Warren's arrival stopped me. He placed the Scrabble box on the table, and I knew I wasn't going anywhere, because I loved to lose at Scrabble. Frankly, I had turned sucking at Scrabble into an art form. Besides, Sylas didn't seem inclined to leave either.

"I think you were a little hard on Janet," I whisper to Sylas.

"I wasn't aware you two were friends."

He is trying to sound nonchalant, but I can hear the tremor in his voice. Why does the idea of me and Janet being friends disturb him?

"She's not even on my radar."

"Not on your radar? PLEASE! You HATE her."

"Not in public!"

"Fine! No more public hating of Janet Featherstone! So, do you have any theories about that pink guitar?"

"That depends."

"On?"

"How you feel about scandals."

"I live for scandals!"

"Well, Marge reads me one of Janet's letters every week, and one name keeps coming up."

"Oh?"

He looked anxious, but I must have imagined it.

"Janet's best friend's husband Joseph Dixon. I think he sent the guitar."

"You think Janet is having an affair with her best friend's husband?"

Now he looked angry, but I really must have imagined that. Was I hallucinating? Had I accidentally eaten one of Warren's special brownies?

"Well, if she is, at least she would FINALLY be interesting."

"Interesting. Right."

His agreement had been lackluster, and his expression was troubled. WHAT THE HELL was going on?

"Cockerell, if you're still playing, it's YOUR turn!"

Evan wasn't even attempting to hide his impatience. When we weren't in my room, he was ALWAYS on his best behavior, so I had no clue what his problem was.

"Of course it is. Your lovely FRIEND was just distracting me."

That shut Evan up immediately. Something was happening beneath the surface of their conversation, but I had no idea what it was. Evan's expression had darkened when Sylas called me his friend, which made no sense, because Evan has known that I'm his friend for years.

Janet returned to the table, and I could practically see the light bulb go on over Sylas's head. With a triumphant smile, he laid down his tiles: D-I-X-O-N. She tried to smother her gasp with a fit of (fake) coughing, but it was obvious that Sylas's arrow had hit its mark. I knew I wasn't imaging anything this time. What was Sylas's beef with Joseph Dixon, and how was Janet Featherstone involved?

"Janet, if you're not feeling well, you must let me take you home."

"Thank you, Evan."

They left the table, and Sylas and I glared after them.

"You know what, Sylas, I'm not feeling very well myself. Would you mind giving me a ride home?"

"Didn't you bring your car?"

I kicked him under the table.

"Of course, Harmony. Giving you a ride home would be my pleasure."

Before we can escape, True pounces on me.

"I've been thinking about Janet's guitar, and I have a theory."

WHY ME? I'm not sure I can deal with the repercussions of another theory tonight.

"I think Evan gave her the guitar."

"Evan," Sylas and I yelp.

"You saw how concerned he was for her health."

"True, he doesn't even KNOW her!"

"He knows her better than you think, Harmony. They've been spending a lot of time with us, while you and Sylas have been elsewhere, and Warren and I have seen sparks.

"Evan doesn't spark," I say.

"Janet doesn't spark," Sylas says.

"I guess we'll have to wait and see," True says, and my insides refuse to unclench.

The ride home is silent. I assume Sylas is focused on his irrational hatred of Joseph Dixon, and I am hatching a plan.

"I can't believe I'm doing this," Dave groans.

"I can't believe I've waited so long to do this," Brad yells gleefully.

So much for the element of surprise.

"I can't believe I let you two come along," I snarl.

True was wrong, and I was determined to get proof straight from the horse's mouth, so I was climbing the trellis beneath Evan's window, with my camera crew in tow. Unfortunately, I had forgotten that roses were also climbing the trellis, which meant our path was blanketed with thorns. At long last, I reach the window, and heave myself, gracefully, over the windowsill. When I plop onto the window seat, I land in Evan's lap.

"What are you doing up?"

"Was I supposed to be sleeping through your attempt at breaking and entering?"

"Maybe," I pout.

"Shut up, and give me your hands."

Before I can protest that my hands belong to me, or some such feminine drivel, Evan is tending to my wounds with peroxide and ointment and Band-Aids. When he's done with me, he gives the medical supplies to Brad and Dave.

"How did you know I would need all of that?"

"Really, Harm," he rolls his eyes.

"That trellis is a deathtrap! I can't believe your lackeys went along with your little scheme."

Brad shrugged nonchalantly, and Dave hung his head.

"Even though I'm flattered that you decided to sneak into MY room, I'm not sure I want you here."

That hurt worse than the thorns.

"But...I'm your best friend."

"You haven't been much of a best friend lately, Harm."

"I want to change that!"

"Okay?"

"Let's talk!"

"I know I'll regret this, but...what do you want to talk about, Harmony?"

"Janet Featherstone's guitar."

"Here we go!"

"Did you give it to her?"

"WHAT?"

"True said you gave Janet the guitar."

"I didn't."

"That's what I told True."

"Smug is not a good look for you, Harmony! First of all: I don't know Janet well enough to give her gifts. Second of all: I'm not the sort of person who would subject someone he cares about to malicious gossip."

"And just what 'malicious gossip' are you referring to, Evan Knight? I've only discussed the guitar with you."

"With me, and True, and Sylas Cockerell. That's what all of that Dixon business was about, wasn't it? Janet was very upset."

"If Janet Featherstone is all you care about, maybe she should shred HER hands on your trellis! Good night!"

With my head held high, I begin to inch my way down the trellis.

"I'm sorry about Harmony. I think the blood loss is making her a little..."

"I said GOOD NIGHT," I bellow, and Dave hurries after me.

non-damsel: Here's some very angry Frank Churchill just for you! I wasn't sure how to make him be angry at Jane, but then I remembered that Our Favorite Lesbian had given me the answer: Emma implying that Jane Fairfax was in love with Joseph Dixon. In other news: I'm going to pat myself on the back for the final scene, because I was cracking myself up, and I hope you enjoyed it too.


	11. In Which I am NOT Pleased about Winning

Author's Note: I don't own Nicholas Sparks, or his films, and I actually like his films, particularly the quote from The Notebook, which I sort of poke fun at, so...PLEASE DON'T HATE ME! I also don't own Harry Potter, but I wish I did, because James Potter would be mine.

"Haley, after Sven dropped you off, he told me he liked...well...me."

"Oh."

With a determination I didn't know I possessed, I fought back the tears that were threatening to overwhelm me.

"I'm SO sorry! If I had known...I never would have..."

"It's not your fault, Harmony."

I wasn't entirely sure about that. I know that Harmony can't control Sven's feelings, but she can control what she says about his feelings, and what she said had always been along the lines of how much he was into ME.

"You were just trying to be a good friend."

I wasn't entirely sure about that either. She had built up my hopes about Sven because she didn't like Robbie, and, somehow, that means I've been played.

"This doesn't mean there aren't other boys who WILL see how wonderful you are, Haley."

I was entirely sure that I wasn't ready to deal with more boys, because I needed a mourning period.

"Other boys can wait."

"Other boys could wait, but...you know what they say about getting right back up on the horse."

"OTHER BOYS CAN WAIT!"

"Of course."

She looked skeptical, but I wasn't going to concern myself with HER feelings at the moment. First: I needed to sort out my own. I shouldn't be upset about Sven, because I hadn't known him very long, and he had always talked about Harmony, but when Harmony told me Sven liked me, I had felt special, and beautiful, and deserving of the attention of someone important. Now, I just felt like the nobody I had been before I had gotten my first assignment.

On Thursday, I ran into Robbie in the dining room during breakfast. We were both reaching for the last piece of bacon, and he let me win. I wanted to strangle him. I hated him for not hating me. I hadn't seen him since Janet's concert, but, here he was, supplying my morning grease.

"I've been reading your favorite book, Hales."

"YOU'RE reading Harry Potter?

"At my age? How would that look? Actually, I'm not reading it, but I bought a copy of every book in the series. I just wanted you to know that I've been thinking about you."

Honestly, I haven't been thinking about you, because I've been thinking about Sven liking me. And then...not liking me.

"I have to go!"

I was leaving the table, when he grabbed my hand.

"At least you're not taking my phone this time."

I didn't appreciate the reminder of how I had reacted the first time he had confessed his feelings for me, but I probably deserved it.

"I miss you," he says, and he lets go of my hand.

As well as I thought I knew Robbie, I couldn't understand him. How could the person who laughed about our one-night stand be so melodramatic about "I love you?"

I decided I needed Harmony. What the hell, right? I had already broken all of the rules about maintaining a professional distance between yourself and your interviewee.

Harmony arrived in a creepy-looking van that had probably belonged to a lollipop-wielding pedophile at one point. I wasn't surprised to learn that the van was Brad's. I did have to give him credit, however, for tricking it out with the latest and greatest in video editing equipment.

"What's wrong, Haley?"

What WASN'T wrong?

"I just saw Robbie in the dining room, and he says he's reading my favorite book. Actually, he said that he bought a copy of my favorite book, because he's been thinking about me. What do you think that means?"

"I think that means he wants to be your friend."

"My friend?"

"Absolutely! You said he was a nice guy, so, because you don't like him romantically, he's trying to be part of your life in a way that works for you."

"Well, I suppose that makes sense."

"It does, so forget about Robbie! I have something to show you," she proclaimed, and she shoved my ass into one of the rolling chairs that was parked in front of a row of monitors. Brad worked his magic, and Harmony's face filled the screen.

"I must be losing my mind, because I could have sworn you just said that Sven Echnovich has a girlfriend!"

"Even though your sanity is debatable, Sven does have a girlfriend. She's a model, and her name is Adelaide Harrison," Evan said.

"So Sven would rather date a stick insect than my friend?"

"I guarantee that Sven would rather date almost anyone than your friend!"

Suddenly, the screen went blank. Apparently, Dave had a little magic of his own. I nodded at him, to show my appreciation for his effort to spare my feelings.

"Oopsie! I forgot about that last part."

Harmony didn't sound particularly apologetic. In fact, she sounded like she always sounded: like she was on the verge of carrying out another scheme.

"Haley, I know just what you need: it's Chick Flick Time!"

Brad made gagging noises, and Dave squeezed my shoulder. I was really beginning to like him, but I decided to keep that to myself. I wasn't willing to give Harmony any ammunition.

Harmony's idea of mood-lifting chick flicks is Nicholas Sparks films. If you ask me, Nicholas Sparks doesn't put much effort into his endings, because someone is always sick, or dying, or not ending up together. I wish he would mix it up a little, but I can't tell this to Harmony, who is crying along with Allie, as Noah says, "I want all of you. Forever. Everyday..." I let my thoughts go where they may. Just to spite me, my thoughts want to obsess about Sven. I can't believe I was passed over for a model! I thought that only happened in nightmares. Even worse: I would have been passed over for just about anything. Thanks for sharing that information, Evan! WHATEVER! I CAN'T let this beat me!

non-damsel: I love how Robbie can just cut through all the bullshit, and say EXACTLY what he means. I don't think I've ever written another character who doesn't do flowery speeches/use A LOT of words.


	12. In Which I am NOT a Believer of Dreams

Author's Note: I own nothing but Dave!

"I've been having a recurring dream about Sylas Cockerell."

"I'm starting to think I should charge you by the hour," Dave smirks.

If he would cut his hair and throw away his baseball cap, he wouldn't be that hard on the eyes. I wonder if he has a girlfriend. No. NO! I had promised myself that I would retire from matchmaking. My perfect record couldn't handle another Sven-and-Haley-style debacle. That woman who wrote "To Kill a Hummingbird" had it right: you should go out when you're at the top of your game.

"In my dream, Sylas asks me to marry him, and I turn him down. What do you think that means?"

"It means you didn't like the ring he bought you."

I glare at him, and he looks guilty.

"Maybe your subconscious is trying to tell you that Sylas isn't the right guy for you."

"What are you saying, Dave? I've been planning my LIFE around Sylas Cockerell for years!"

"He's just a piece, Harmony. He isn't the whole puzzle. Besides, pieces don't always fit."

"But I have it all figured out. Sylas is my plan!"

"You can always get a new plan, Harmony. So...uh...I noticed that Evan hasn't been around as much lately."

I couldn't stop myself from glancing at the empty side of the bed, where Evan should have been.

"Since we were in his room, you mean?"

"Yes, and...no. You two were rocky before Sylas showed up, so...what if Sylas is just something to focus on, while you're waiting for things to work out between you and Evan?"

"Sylas Cockerell is my DESTINY, Dave! He's not some distraction! After all, I'm in-like with him."

"I know that's what you thought while he was visiting his aunt, but you did say that he was weird about Janet Featherstone and Joseph Dixon. All I'm saying is: you should talk to Sylas before you make him your plan."

I move toward Dave, and he flattens himself against the wall, whimpering about not shooting the messenger, but I just give him an awkward hug, and he looks like he might faint at any moment.

I'm at the EVERYTHING-is-organic store with Daddy, who is towering over a quivering employee (the kid couldn't be more than sixteen), and ranting about the pesticides that will kill us all, when Warren taps me on the shoulder.

"True is throwing an engagement party for Sven and Adelaide next Saturday. It would be totally groovy if you and your father came."

Wait a minute! He's MARRYING her? I thought they were just dating. How was I going to tell Haley? FUCK!

"Warren, are you sure about inviting Daddy?"

Daddy had moved on from ranting about pesticides, to ranting about the evils of marriage, particularly about marriage leading to people putting sunflower seeds in icing.

"Of course, Harmony! Your father is one cool dude."

Maybe I should re-think my ban against Warren's special brownies, especially if they could make Daddy seem bearable.

I decided that the best way to tell Haley that Sven and Adelaide were getting married was to wait until we were on True's porch.

"Haley, we're here for Sven and Adelaide's engagement party," I say, and I ring the doorbell, before she has a chance to have a breakdown.

Adelaide looks like you would expect a model to look. She is a size zero, with no breasts and no ass, which means she has nothing a man would want but money and prestige. According to Evan, that's all Sven Echnovich cares about, so he chose well for himself. But...not so much for everyone else who has to put up with her.

"Adelaide, I hear you're...musical."

Actually, I hadn't heard anything of the sort, but most of the people I know are musical, so I figured it was worth a shot.

"Well, I certainly wouldn't say so, but my friends tell me I could have been a professional singer."

Adelaide has the most complimentary friends to ever be complimentary. Whenever someone compliments some one else, Adelaide will chime in that her friends say she could have been a professional whatever-the-compliment-was-about. If she isn't bringing up her friends, she's bringing up her parents, who are richer than God, with their mansions and yachts and private air planes and antiques that are envied by collectors around the world. Despite these advantages, she has "internal resources" that allow her to cope with adversity. "Sven only lives in an apartment, but my internal resources will help me survive the space limitations." "Sven doesn't have a personal chef, like my parents, but my internal resources will help me learn to cook for us." I would just LOVE to tell her where she can shove her internal resources!

non-damsel: I owe my Adelaide to your Amy. GAH! I miss My Own Mr. Knightley SO much. Can't I just deal with Becka, instead of Haley?


	13. In Which I am NOT a Friend of Swans

Author's Note: I only own the giant plastic swans!

When Harmony told me that we were about to walk into Sven and Adelaide's engagement party, I felt nothing. It was like a bowling ball had been torpedoed through my gut, and I was just hollow. I was hollow while I watched Sven dancing with Marge Bates, whose skirt rose ever higher, as she ground herself against him. And I was hollow when Warren told Sven to ask me to dance, and Sven countered that he had sown his last wild oat. Why anyone would waste their last wild oat on Marge Bates, I couldn't fathom.

After an eternity of guarding the punch bowl, and resting my back against the wall, to make sure it didn't fall down, Evan Knight asked me, ME, to dance. He even put my shoes on for me, before he whisked me off to the dance floor. In his arms, I was in heaven. That night, I sang the chorus of "I Could Have Danced All Night" as I drifted off to sleep.

The next day, I took a cab to the park, where I was supposed to meet Harmony and Sylas for a picnic.

"You should ride in one of the swans, Haley!"

"I don't know, Harmony. That looks like it involves work."

"Working builds character, so go to it!"

'Working builds character'? Seriously? So say-eth the REALITY STAR.

Obediently, I got to it, which consisted of clumsily climbing into a giant plastic swan, and trying to figure out how to properly position my feet inside of the straps on the pedals. I was at a total loss as to how to make the fucking thing move, so I bobbed in place for awhile, and the kids in the swan behind me started ramming their swan into mine. Eventually, they used enough force to knock me out of my swan, and into the pond, which was about as shallow as a puddle, so I got to my feet immediately. Nevertheless, Sylas made quite a show of running into the water, and carrying me back to safety. Harmony was hollering her encouragement at the top of her lungs, like a lunatic, and Sylas bowed and waved to the crowd that had gathered.

"Haley, isn't it WONDERFUL to have your own personal hero?"

Well, I couldn't deny that Sylas looked good wet, and I also couldn't deny that being rescued by the two hottest male tickets in town was a bit of an ego boost. And, just like that...my feelings for Sven Echnovich were no more! When we had finished lunch, and Sylas and I had dried off, Sylas went to work, and I revealed my master plan to Harmony.

"Harmony, I need your fireplace!"

non-damsel: So much for Harmony's plans to give up on matchmaking, huh? Damnit, Sylas! You should have let Haley save herself.


	14. In Which I am NOT Inclined to Kiss

Author's Note: I don't even own fried bubblegum, because that belongs to the State Fair of Texas.

When Haley said she needed my fireplace, I wasn't expecting her to burn her mementos of every event she had attended with Sven. Although I can't say I was sorry to see the flyer advertising Janet Featherstone's concert go up in flames, I was sorry that she hadn't wanted to burn her plaid shirts as well. I guess you can't take the country out of the girl completely.

"Haley, this is a HUGE step! What made you decide to do this?"

"You won't like it."

"I still want to know."

"Harmony, I like to think that we're friends."

"We ARE friends, Haley! After all, I have invested A LOT of time and energy in you."

"Thanks?"

"You're welcome! So, what won't I like?"

"I like this guy, but he's SO far out of my league it's ridiculous. And I'm a terrible person for even considering..."

"I'm going to stop you right there, Haley Jones! NO ONE is out of your league. Believing that is key. Also: any guy who wins your heart is lucky."

"Do you really think so?"

"I really know so. Now, tell me what makes Mr. Wonderful Mr. Wonderful."

"He saved me."

OH! MY! GOD! Haley's Mr. Wonderful is SYLAS COCKERELL! She must have fallen for him after he braved the murky depths of the pond on her behalf. I had hoped that a minor disaster would befall her, hence my insistence that she attempt to operate one of the park's giant plastic swans by herself. If she ended up in the water, I was sure Fate would send her a hero.

"That means he's a keeper! I'm happy for you, Haley."

I had retired from matchmaking, but, if Haley wanted to do a little matchmaking for herself, I didn't see the harm in lending her a hand. Besides, I approved of her choice. Speaking of which, I decided it was high time that I paid Sylas a little visit. After I realized I was in-like with Sylas, he tortured Janet Featherstone about Joseph Dixon, and I began to suspect that Dave was right about Sylas not being my destiny. However, I needed to know how he felt about me. Just in case, I filled my pockets with tissues. If he shed a few manly tears, while I was gently breaking his heart, I would be prepared. But before I dealt with Sylas, I decided to surprise Marge with coffee.

"Harmony Woodwin, my angel, what are you doing here?"

Was I actually going to get to answer her questions for a change?

"Oh! You brought coffee. How sweet of you, dear!"

No answering questions for Harmony! I may as well make myself comfortable, while I wait out the talking storm.

"I've been thinking, dear, that the fair is opening next week, and I would like to go. They're frying all sorts of things these days, and my heart, and my stomach, is set on trying a piece of fried bubblegum. I've mentioned this to Janet dearest, and she said I should run it by you, because you organize the groups' activities, which brings me to my point: how do you think everyone would feel about going to the fair? Janet dearest has been asked to perform, and your father could provide transportation, and your viewers could see what fried bubblegum looks like. So...what do you think?"

I think Dave has a soft spot for cotton candy. And I think the viewers would enjoy seeing me do something the common man could relate to. Plus, I haven't been on a Ferris Wheel since someone's fifteenth birthday party. When the ride got stuck, we started playing Truth or Dare. Eventually, everyone was dared to kiss whoever was in the seat next to them. I blame my shitty luck for Evan being the one I had to kiss. Because I deserve a better Ferris Wheel experience than being forced to kiss my best friend, I tell Marge that she will get that piece of fried bubblegum.

"I ALWAYS put my faith in you, dear. You NEVER let me down!"

The rest of the visit passed pleasantly enough, with Marge gushing about me, and no letters from Janet, so I left in good spirits. As I was strolling down the driveway, humming a tune I'd learned from a commercial for a product I couldn't remember, I saw something impossible: Sylas Cockerell and Janet Featherstone were sitting on the hood of his car. What were they doing TOGETHER? I overheard her say, "You didn't have to take it so far," and I watched him whisper something in her ear. Then, she slapped him across the face. In that moment, Janet Featherstone was impressive, let me tell you, like Zena: Warrior Princess. He whispered something else, and, as she raised her arm to deliver another blow, he caught her by the wrist. I couldn't believe what I had just seen, and I walked the whole way home in a daze. I didn't even think about hailing a cab.

I spent the rest of the week making arrangements for our trip to the fair. Everyone had agreed to come, so three limos, Brad's van, and Marge's timeshare had to be procured. Everyone turned out to be: Evan and myself, True and Warren, Marge and Janet, and Sylas and Haley. Adelaide invited herself and Sven, because her friends had told her that she could enjoy a fair more than most. Just to be on the safe side, I bought mass quantities of painkillers and ear plugs.

I am sitting on my suitcase, to make sure it will stay closed, when Evan greets me with a sarcastic, "Let me guess...that's your makeup bag."

"It's my EVERYTHING bag," I primly correct him.

"Color me shocked! I never thought I'd see the day when Harmony Woodwin only packed ONE bag."

"That doesn't mean I won't come back with more than one bag."

"Of course it doesn't. Anyway! I just came to tell you that Sylas can have you."

"What?" I nearly toppled over the edge of the bed.

"It's all arranged. You and Sylas can have a limo to yourselves, and everyone else can use the other limos."

"Why did you do that?"

"I was being a good friend by giving you some alone time with the guy you like."

"A good friend would know that I like to make my own arrangements!"

"A good friend knows how to show a little gratitude when someone does her a favor!"

"Evan, I appreciate you, and I'm sorry for being a bitch. Packing has just TOTALLY fried my brain."

I rested my head on his shoulder, and he didn't shove me away, so I figured I had been forgiven.

"How about I help you un-fry it? I know where your dad keeps his booze."

"I'd love to have a drink with you, but..."

"You already have plans with Sylas."

Not officially, but, judging by what had gone down in the driveway, I needed to talk to him more than ever.

"Yeah, I do, but...I'm really sorry."

"You're really sorry an awful lot, Harm!"

"Evan, I don't know what you want from me! First: I'm not a good friend. Then: you want to have a drink with me. Now: you're pissed because I have a life outside of you. What am I not doing that you want me to do?"

"You're not making me a priority."

"Evan, I still care about you as much as I always have."

"But you care about Sylas more!"

"If you really think you've lost the top spot on my priority list, why do you want me to share a limo with Sylas?"

"Because I want you to be happy."

"I'M HAPPY WHEN I SPEND TIME WITH YOU!"

"If that were true, you wouldn't have made plans with another guy!"

"You sound like a jealous boyfriend!"

Evan is already climbing out of the window before I can process the insanity I have just spewed. Evan Knight? Jealous? Over me? Nothing could EVER happen that would make that possible! Not that I wanted it to be possible, of course.

Twenty minutes later, Sylas was on Evan's side of my bed.

"You sounded pretty hysterical when you called me, so...what's going on, Chicken Little? Is the sky falling? Or are you just wanting to talk me to death about Haley? Because, trust me, you've convinced me that Haley Jones is God's gift to mankind!"

"Chicken Who?"

"Chicken Little. It's a children's story about a chicken who thinks the sky is falling, and she freaks the fuck out, and she spreads her paranoia among the other birds. Eventually, they all get eaten by a fox. The moral is: don't panic until you know that you have something to panic about."

"Thanks for the unnecessary Literature lesson, Sy, but we have more important things to discuss than..."

"Paranoid poultry?"

"Exactly! Here's the thing: while you were visiting your aunt, I started to think I liked you...as more than a friend."

"And now?"

"You're still one of the best guys I know, but I only like you as a friend."

"My pride is a little wounded, but I'm not seeing the problem, Harmy."

"The problem is that people might assume that we are more than friends."

"People like Evan?"

"Evan is just a friend. What he thinks doesn't matter!"

"I never pegged you as someone who gives a damn about what other people think."

"That's because I'm not!"

"Of course you're not, which means: our relationship can be like it has always been, and we don't have to waste time explaining ourselves. The most important thing is that we know how we feel."

"Wow! Packing really has fried my brain. I'm NEVER this melodramatic!"

"You're ALWAYS this melodramatic."

I hit him with a pillow, and I press on.

"I'm sorry I dragged you away from work for nothing."

"Anything for my best girl," he kisses the top of my head, and he heads for the door.

"You'd better be prepared to entertain me tomorrow, Harmy, because we've got a LONG car ride ahead of us."

"Uh...Sylas?"

He turns to face me.

"Yeah?"

For someone who doesn't give a damn about what people think, I really had to screw up my courage before I could say what was on my mind.

"Did you ever like me...as more than a friend?"

"I'll see you tomorrow, Harmy."

In the limo, Sylas and I covered each other in Silly String, so I was still picking pink bits out of my hair when I entered McDonald's. I sat at a table by the window, and Janet, of all people, claimed the seat across from me.

"I thought you could use some company."

"Oh?"

"You must be lonely now that Evan has Haley."

"WHAT?"

My jaw dropped so far, I think it became unhinged.

"Evan and Haley have been having lunch together every day, and they saw a movie last night. I thought you knew, but I'm just beginning to realize that you didn't. If I'm sticking my nose in where it doesn't belong...I'm sorry."

"Don't worry about it! I'm happy my friends are becoming friends. Besides, I've got Sylas."

"How is that going," she gulps.

Thinking about Sylas must remind her of Joseph Dixon.

"Sylas is Sylas."

"Uh-huh."

"You know what I mean! After all, you spent time together in Europe."

"I met him at a charity event, but we were never friends."

"But you sang that duet!"

"That was my grandmother's idea! So, are you and Sylas friends, or..."

"It's time to get those fine asses in gear, Ladies! We have a fair to get to."

Sylas wanted to resume our Silly String war, but my heart wasn't in it. My thoughts kept wandering to Evan and Haley. How long had they been lunch-buddies? What if Haley was only pretending to be into Evan, so no one would realize that she was really interested in Sylas? Maybe she was afraid of coming on too strong before Sylas had the chance to know her and like her. What if Sylas thought Haley was unavailable, so he started ignoring her? What if Evan discovered he was being used, and he started hating Haley? What if Evan fell for Haley, while she was pretending that she had fallen for him?

I would have to suffer through another conversation with Janet Featherstone, because there HAD TO be details I was missing, but, first, I had to get her alone. I'm not sure how it had happened, but Adelaide had made it her mission to advise Janet on all of the places she should visit on her next tour, so she was constantly clinging to Janet's side. I'm sure Sven welcomed the peace and quiet. Until I had a plan for dealing with Janet and Adelaide, I decided to take advantage of the ocean, and the moonlight, by dancing in the waves. I had intended to turn on some music, because I brought my iPod with me, but the beauty of the human voice was lost on me after hearing Adelaide's incessant squawking of "My friends say I would make an EXCELLENT travel agent."

"Are you dancing with anyone special," Evan asks.

"Just Prince Charming, but I would tell him to get lost if I thought you wanted to cut in."

"You know I don't dance."

"That sounds like a coward's excuse."

"I'll show you how much of a coward I am!"

His hands were on my ass, and we were pelvis-to-pelvis so fast that my head was spinning. It took a great deal of effort to ignore the deafening pounding of my heart.

"Dance with me like a GENTLEMAN."

"Spoil-sport," he pouts, but he moves his hands.

"Do you think Haley and Sylas would make a good couple?"

Whatever Haley had said to Evan during their secret lunch dates, he had to know that Haley really wanted Sylas.

"Don't YOU like Sylas?"

"Of course, but I can still ask a hypothetical question."

"I do think Sylas is interested in someone, but I'm pretty sure it isn't..."

We had danced far enough from the shore to be submerged by a wave. Spluttering indignantly, we resurfaced. I glared at him, and he glared at me, and we both started laughing.

What I hope will be my better Ferris Wheel experience begins with Sylas's announcement that he wants a wife.

"I'm trusting you to find the woman of my dreams."

"That's a lot to ask, Sylas."

"Lighten up, Harmy! Everyone knows you're no matchmaker."

As a rule, I encouraged his teasing, but this felt like an attack. When I'd gone to the kitchen that morning to scrounge up some breakfast, I could tell that he had been talking to his aunt, because he had hung up the phone, and he had muttered something about 'all these women thinking they have the right to control my life,' as he threw his phone at the wall. I took that as my cue to skip breakfast. Bottom line: none of that was about me, so I did not appreciate his attitude.

The Ferris Wheel shuddered to a stop. I hoped no one in our group was immature enough to suggest Truth or Dare, because Sylas didn't deserve my kiss. However, Sylas did suggest another game.

"Listen up, Everyone! It's time to entertain Miss Woodwin. You can only say three things, but they can make her feel happy, or sad, or bored, or any other emotion."

"What makes you think I would want to entertain HER," Adelaide asks.

Even if she wasn't trying to offend me, which wasn't likely, I was offended, and I lashed out at the next person who dared to speak to me.

"As long as Harmony can feel ANY emotion, I'll play!"

"Don't bother, Marge! You'll NEVER be able to stop talking after three things."

That was the worst thing I had ever said, and I could have kissed the ride's operator for shattering the silence.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, may I have your attention, please? We are experiencing some technical difficulties, so...if you would just relax, we'll have the ride up and running as soon as we can."

I had five hours to think about what I had done, because no one would speak to me, not even Brad. Every so often, I would glance at Dave, and he would shake his head in disbelief. My head knew that everyone should be rallying around Marge, but I couldn't silence my heart's deafening roar of "Pick ME! Choose ME! Love ME!" I knew I had been a monster to the closest thing I have to a grandmother, but I wouldn't have minded a little understanding. Hadn't I been plagued with questions about why Janet had slapped Sylas? Hadn't I been forced to put up with Adelaide Harrison and Sven Echnovich? Hadn't Sylas been a total dick to me? Hadn't Haley been masking her feelings for Sylas by hanging out, behind my back, with MY Evan? My Evan? DAMNIT! I was in love with Evan Knight, and he was going to kill me for being terrible to Marge Bates.

Five hours, and every major news station, later, I was back on solid ground, but, metaphorically, the ground I shared with Evan had never been shakier. I owed Marge one hell of an apology, and the sooner, the better. But Evan got to me first. DOOM!

"How could you do that to Marge?"

"I..."

"I thought you understood that people are only nice to her because WE are!"

"The world isn't ending, Evan! Marge just misunderstood me."

"EVERYBODY knows exactly what you meant, Harmony! Marge knows that she talks too much, and she knows that most of what comes out of her mouth should have stayed in her head, but she trusts us to love her unconditionally."

"I..."

"You're her FAMILY, Harmony! Before this summer, she barely saw Janet, and who knows what her good-for-nothing kid is up to, so you're all she's got."

"I..."

"I've never been so disappointed in someone in my ENTIRE life! Harmony, I CAN'T put up with this shit anymore!"

When Evan walked away from me, I felt the full weight of what I had done to Marge Bates. Having no one is the WORST feeling in the world.

non-damsel: Your Sophie and Becka scene outside of Banana Joe's inspired me to do one of my own. Something about imitation being the highest form of flattery, or whatever. Most importantly: I SURVIVED THE MISS BATES INCIDENT!


	15. In Which I am NOT Realistic

Author's Note: Austen owns Harriet's crush on Knightley!

The first time Evan Knight asked me to have lunch with him, I assumed he wanted to vent his frustrations about something Harmony had done. However, the first thing he said to me had nothing to do with Harmony. He asked me if I was okay.

"Sorry?"

"Are you okay? Sven was...Well, we're in a public place, so I can't say what I think about the way he treated you last night."

"Thanks for the concern, and for the dance."

"It was my pleasure," he said, and he reached across the table to squeeze my hand.

"He's just worried about me because I am his best friend's friend," I told myself, but, foolishly, my heart fluttered.

I never wondered if he needed someone to keep him company while Harmony was with Sylas, because I had lost sight of everything but the fact that Evan ate lunch with me every day, and called me every night. I hadn't said so much as hello to Harmony in weeks, and she was the reason I was here. That was how out of touch with reality I had become. Apparently, I had learned nothing from my obsession with Sven.

When Evan mentioned our transportation to Marge's timeshare, I was afraid that he wanted to share a limo with Harmony, but he told me that he had arranged for Harmony and Sylas to have their own limo, which meant that I would have him all to myself. VICTORY!

As I listened to Harmony call Marge a chatterbox, in an incredibly cruel way, the devil on my shoulder cackled, "Harmony just committed an unforgivable sin, and Evan might not feel the same way about her EVER AGAIN, so...YOU win this round!"

non-damsel: And Haley continues to suck!


	16. In Which I am NOT Afraid of the Camera

Author's Note: I own a lotta nada!

At five o'clock the next morning, we headed home. I couldn't help thinking it was my fault, and Dave's head-shaking didn't change my mind. We had originally planned to spend the weekend at the beach, not that I was in any hurry to go back to the spot where I had danced with Evan, who will probably never speak to me again, even though I'm in love with him. I just hate feeling like I've fucked things up for everyone, because I'm supposed to be the one who makes sure that the people around me are enjoying life.

The morning after we got home, I brought coffee to Marge's, but she refused to answer the door, so I went around the side of the house, and I yelled my apologies at what I hoped was Marge's window. After twenty minutes, Janet took pity on me, and she brought me a cup of ice water, but she didn't invite me in.

"I'm sorry about what I said to your grandmother. I know there isn't anything I can say to make it better, but I'm prepared to grovel, if she ever wants to see me again. Also: I was hoping you would tell her that she's my family."

"Sure."

Janet was about to shut the door in my face, when I had an epiphany.

"Wait!"

Janet waited.

"I'm sorry that I haven't made more of an effort to be your friend."

"You haven't made ANY effort!"

Geez! Harsh much?

"You're right, and I'm sorry. You were nice to me when you thought I was lonely, and I want to return the favor."

"How are things going with Evan?"

"They couldn't be worse, because I'm in love with him."

Janet invites me in.

I trip over a suitcase that is sitting in the entryway. If Janet and I were friends, I'm sure she would have warned me about the room being booby-trapped before she let me in.

"You're not leaving already, are you?"

Janet and Dave stare at me, their eyes bulging. They both look as shocked as I feel. There had been no sarcasm in my tone, just regret, because I didn't want Janet Featherstone, my nemesis, to leave.

"Adelaide is going to do some modeling in Canada, and she asked me if I wanted to come along. There's nothing keeping me here, so I said yes."

"Are you really sure you want to spend that much time with Adelaide?"

"I don't write people off as quickly as you do, Harmony! I believe in giving someone a chance."

"I suppose I deserve that."

"You do, but I'm still going to try and convince my grandmother to forgive you. It just might take some time."

"Thank you, Janet. I really appreciate that!"

When I return from Marge's, I find Evan on my bed. Now that I'm in love with him, he REALLY shouldn't be there. Didn't Sven say that I would be wild in the heat of passion? What if I couldn't contain myself, and I just started tearing off my clothes?

"I just wanted you to know that I'm going out of town for awhile."

"I was at Marge's," I exclaim.

Was I bragging, or I was begging him to stay?

"Oh?"

"I apologized to Janet, for not being her friend, and I tried to apologize to Marge, but she wouldn't come to the door. I'm not giving up though!"

"That's good to hear."

"Evan, I don't want to disappoint you."

"I know," his voice cracks, and I hate myself for hurting him.

Before I can react, he is climbing out of my window, and I'm wishing that I had a thorn-covered trellis. I know I'm in the dog house, and I know I'm in love with Evan, so I shouldn't want to make him bleed, but...is a goodbye too much to ask for?

With Evan gone, I had nothing to do but...answer the phone? WHAT THE FUCK? Can't a girl pine in peace?

"Harmony, stop doing whatever you're doing, and get your ass over here! NOW!"

In that moment, True didn't sound like a supporter of peace. She sounded like someone who was ready to load a shotgun, so, instead of strolling into True's like I owned the place, I knocked on the door, and waited for her to scream, "Harmony! Inside! NOW!" With an invitation like that, how could I refuse?

"I'm SO sorry, Harmony," Warren moans, throwing his arms around my neck.

What had happened? Was I dying?

"I'm sure Sylas had a good reason for..."

"Of course he didn't have a good reason," True rages.

"He hasn't had a good reason for ANYTHING he's done since he missed the wedding, but this is really..."

"Sylas's aunt died," Warren interjects desperately.

"True, that's NOT Sylas's fault!"

"Well, that's the ONLY thing that isn't! I hate to burst your bubble, Harmony, because I've encouraged you to like Sylas, but you have to know that he has been using you."

"That's impossible! Sylas and I are..."

I stop myself from saying anything else. Hadn't Sylas and I agreed that we were the only ones who needed to know where we stood?

"Sylas would NEVER hurt me!"

"That's what I thought, but Sylas is dating someone else, and he has been dating her this whole time!"

"WHAT? Why didn't he just say something?"

"His aunt didn't approve of the girl, so he pretended that he was interested in someone she would approve of: you. Now that his aunt isn't a factor, he's going to marry her."

"I HAVE TO see him!"

"But you don't know who she is yet!"

"Sylas can tell me! He owes me an explanation anyway."

"But, Harmony..."

"I'm going, True! Warren, I promise not to kill Sylas."

I consider barging into Sylas's office, but then I remember that I had never asked where he worked. Actually, that probably wasn't a bad thing, because I would have time to process my feelings, and, perhaps, practice my speech in front of the mirror, before Sylas came to beg for my forgiveness. Surely he wouldn't run away and get married without giving me closure, because we are friends.

I open the door to my room, and I am confronted by the sight of Haley pacing.

"Haley, did we have plans today?"

"No, but I thought we should talk."

"What's going on?"

"First of all: can you believe that Sylas has had a girlfriend all this time?"

"Have you been talking to Sylas?"

Hope surges through me. If Haley and Sylas are interacting outside of our group activities, Sylas's mystery girlfriend might have some competition.

"No. True called me, and she was really pissed, and she went off about Sylas."

"And you're alright with all of this?"

Haley furrowed her brow in confusion. Did she take her stupid pills this morning, or was she just in shock? Shouldn't she be bawling and wailing about how her life was over?

"Are you alright with Sylas having a girlfriend?"

"Why wouldn't I be?"

I could feel my brow furrowing.

"Because you LIKE Sylas!"

"No, I don't."

"WHAT?"

"I don't like Sylas."

"But he saved you, and he's out of your league, and you told me you liked him after you burned the things that reminded you of Sven!"

"I wasn't talking about Sylas," Haley says, like she's explaining something really simple to a two-year-old.

"But no one else has saved you!"

"Don't you remember what happened at Sven and Adelaide's engagement party," she snaps impatiently, like whatever she was referring to was obvious to people who hadn't even been there.

That night was pretty hazy, because Sylas had suggested that we take a drink each time Adelaide mentioned her friends.

"Not really."

"Well, Sven told Warren that he wouldn't dance with me, so Evan danced with me."

"Wait a minute! Are you saying you were talking about Evan Knight?"

I was proud of myself for not saying "MY Evan Knight."

"So what if I was? Do you think I'm good enough for Sylas, but not good enough for Evan?"

How could I say that I just didn't want her to like the man I love?

"I NEVER said you weren't good enough, Haley! In fact, I seem to recall telling you that NO ONE is too good for you!"

When she started yelling at me, she had risen to her full height. Now, she returned to her spot on my bed. I can't say I was thrilled to have her near me, because the temptation to gouge out her eyes might become overpowering.

"You're right, Harmony," she sighs.

"You did tell me that, and I'm sorry for freaking out. I just want this assignment to go well, and I keep getting sidetracked by boy problems, which means that I am INCREDIBLY unprofessional. That's a pretty big blow to my ego, you know?"

No. I didn't know, and I had feeling that I had missed something HUGE.

"Assignment? What assignment, Haley?"

"Wow! This Sylas thing really messed with your head, didn't it?"

Damn! Could she be any more insensitive? I certainly hadn't taught her to behave this way!

"Harmony, you know I'm the reporter from People Magazine who has been doing a story on you."

"Haley, I didn't know any of that."

"WHAT?"

I look from the evil glint in Brad's eye, to the guilty look on Dave's face, and I know that I have been played, most likely on a massive scale, so I have to talk to the head honcho at People Magazine immediately.

Marge isn't at the Information Desk, which is a blessing, because I can't handle anymore feelings or revelations today. Knowing that Haley had set her sights on the love of my life was bad enough, without all of the added drama of her being a reporter.

After an elevator ride to one of the floors that belonged to People Magazine, I burst into a random office, and I come face-to-face with a man in a tutu.

"Hello, Harmony," he beams, and he shakes my hand.

"I believe you are looking for the office at the opposite end of the hall."

Then, he gives the finger to the wall, like he thinks someone outside of the room can see what he's doing. I'm freaked out, and fascinated, but he is a mystery that I don't have time to solve, so I run out of the room, and down the hall, and into the office where the man in the tutu had implied that I would find answers.

"I'm looking for the owner of People Magazine," I pant, and the receptionist points at a door that is opening.

I'm not sure how long it takes me to comprehend that Sylas Cockerell is walking out of the office in question, but I am sure that it took me longer to comprehend that Janet Featherstone is with him.

I march right up to Sylas, and I punch him in the face. He doesn't fall on his ass, but he does stagger backward, and his cheek is changing color, courtesy of my fist.

"I know you were never into me, so tell me about Janet," I command.

"My aunt wouldn't have approved of Janet because she was hoping that I would hook up with a member of the royal family."

"She aims high, doesn't she?"

"Tell me about it!"

"I'm sorry that your aunt sucks," I say, and, to my astonishment, because he's been such a douchebag to me, I mean it.

"Shockingly, my aunt wasn't our only obstacle. As you're probably aware, Janet is owned by Disney, and Disney is even more controlling than my aunt. Her bosses were not fans of our seven-year age gap, so they forbid her from seeing me."

"So you pretended to be interested in me for the sake of love?"

"I did."

I can feel the ice around my heart melting, because I love love, and I admire people who are willing to sacrifice everything, even their morals, for love. On the other hand, he had used ME, and I couldn't just let that shit go!

"What about Haley?"

"I know you were hoping that Haley and I would be another True and Warren, but I'm sure you can see that that's NEVER going to happen."

"Sylas, you know that's not what I'm talking about!"

He cringes.

"I know that Haley is doing a story on me. WHY WASN'T I TOLD?"

Janet slaps him across the face.

"AFTER EVERYTHING SHE DID FOR US, YOU DIDN'T TELL HER?"

I was starting to think that her anger issues and Sylas's anger issues would be a dangerous combination, so he probably should have let me set him up with Haley.

"I'll give you two some time to sort this out, but, Harmony, I've been wanting to tell you that, even though you're a bitch, I sort of think you're cool."

"Janet, even though you're a liar, I'm glad that you and Sylas being in a good place will keep you from having to go to Canada with Adelaide."

Janet's laughter is as pleasant as her singing.

"I've been DREADING that trip."

"By the way, nothing happened between me and Sylas."

"Good. I couldn't marry Sylas if I killed him."

I couldn't understand why she still wanted to marry Sylas, but I didn't want to ruin the moment by asking for an explanation.

Sylas clears his throat. "Harmony, let's finish this in my office."

Reluctantly, I turn my attention back to him. When the door was closed, and Sylas was sitting behind his desk, and I was sitting across from him, Sylas proceeded to defend himself.

"We thought it would be funny if..."

"We," the man in the tutu, who had stuck his head in the door to watch the carnage, snorted indignantly.

"I," Sylas amended, after he shot a sour look at our audience, "I thought it would be funny if...I thought your viewers would enjoy...", he back-pedaled.

"I wanted to see if Haley could interview you without you finding out that you were being interviewed."

"Why?"

"Because Evan called you an airhead, and I wanted to prove him right."

"So...all that time we spent together...were you EVER my friend, or were you just trying to make sure that I didn't find out about Haley, and that everyone else didn't find out about Janet?"

"Harmony, you're not exactly in a position to judge someone for using people!"

"What is THAT supposed to mean?"

"You didn't like Haley, so you tried to turn her into you!"

"I ALWAYS liked Haley. Not many people take the time to have a conversation with Daddy, but Haley did, so I was trying to be a good friend. What's your motivation?"

"Business. My readers, and your viewers, want good stories, so I gave them one."

"Did you ever think about how being an experiment would make ME feel?"

"Did you ever think about how being a project would make HALEY feel?"

"No, I didn't."

Tears are running down my face now, and I don't even bother to wipe them away.

"Harmony, you and I are the same. We are manipulators. You may as well accept it, and use it to your advantage."

"I AM NOT GOING TO BE LIKE YOU ANYMORE," I roar, and I storm out of his office.

Brad and Dave are stupid enough to be waiting for me in the hall. I'm not sure how they knew where I was, because it was their day off, and I really didn't want to know. With as much force as I could muster, keeping in mind that I had already done this once today, I punched Dave in the face. Brad would have enjoyed being punched too much for my message to be effective.

"You knew that Sylas was fucking with me, didn't you?"

"Everyone responsible for Perfect Harmony knew."

"Fine! Everyone from Perfect Harmony can kiss my ass!"

Without a moment's hesitation, I remove my designer pants, which are not going to be appearing on the runway until next year (that's how fashion forward I am), and I give Brad's camera a closeup of what I want all of the motherfuckers who had been pulling my strings to kiss.

While my pants are off, and I'm bent over, and I look rebellious, but not sexy, who should appear but Evan?

"Harm, WHAT are you doing?"

He looked alarmed, and like he was trying not to laugh, and his cheeks were slightly red.

"I'm making my point."

"Are you about done? Because we wear pants in public."

Once my pants were back where they belonged, I glared, with all of my remaining strength, at Evan.

"This is all YOUR fault!"

"MY FAULT? I'm not the one who took off your pants!"

Yep. He was definitely blushing, and I was definitely pleased.

"You're the one who called me an airhead!"

"I NEVER called you an airhead, Harmony! I just said that you come across as an airhead sometimes."

"Well, whatever you said gave Sylas the idea to have Haley interview me without my knowledge."

"Haley's a reporter?"

"You two had all of those lunch dates, and you never knew?"

Okay, I can admit that I'm bitter about their secret lunches.

"We didn't talk about work. I just assumed that she was doing some traveling during her summer vacation. Anyway! I hope you FINALLY understand why I've never liked Sylas."

"Because...he lied to me?"

"YES! He lied to you, and he made Janet watch while you threw yourselves at each other."

"So you know about Janet and Sylas?"

He gave me a hug, and it was such sweet torture.

"Yeah. Do you remember when you asked me what I thought of Haley and Sylas as a couple, and I tried to tell you that he was interested in someone?"

"YOU KNEW ABOUT JANET THEN?"

I tried to push him away, but he pulled me closer, and I didn't fight him, because he smelled WONDERFUL.

"I had my suspicions."

"Very well, Sherlock, would you mind sharing those suspicions with the rest of the class?"

"Sylas seemed so angry about Dixon, and Janet said that Joseph Dixon was her friend, so I wondered if Sylas was jealous of Joseph Dixon. Why would Sylas be jealous of Janet and another guy if they weren't involved? Plus, it seemed odd that Sylas suddenly showed up, after all these years, at the same time Janet came to town. Not to mention the fact that they obviously knew each other well enough to sing together."

"Why didn't you tell me all of this before?"

"You wouldn't have listened, because you would have been too busy telling me that I was jealous of Sylas."

"Sometimes, I HATE that you know me so well."

"Sometimes, I HATE that you're right."

"I'm what now?"

I put my hand against his forehead.

"Well, you don't have a fever."

He removed my hand, and, as he held it, my throat constricted. Loving Evan Knight was going to be the death of me!

"You would have been right about me being jealous of Sylas. Aren't you going to ask me why?"

I thought about his secret lunches with Haley, and I thought about how he had remembered that I had asked for his opinion of Haley and Sylas as a couple. OH GOD! He was jealous of Sylas because he knew that I wanted to set Sylas up with Haley! This man was EVERYTHING to me, so I couldn't listen to his admission of love for Haley Jones, who he never would have met if I hadn't adopted her. Couldn't some things NOT come back to bite you in the ass?

"You know what, Evan? I would rather you didn't say anything that we will both regret!"

"Then I guess I have nothing else to say!"

As he walked away from me, I looked back at Dave, who was still my Getting Personal Guru, and Dave gestured frantically for me to follow Evan.

"Thanks," I mouthed, and I started to run, which was a bitch, considering how exhausted I was from all of the punching I had done.

I was red-faced, and panting, and sweating, and straggly-haired, when I caught up with Evan, but I didn't care...that much.

"Evan, stop," I wheeze.

"I'm sorry for sucking back there! There isn't ANYTHING you could say that I wouldn't want to hear, because you're my best friend."

"I'm your best friend, Harm?"

WHAT THE FUCK? OF COURSE YOU ARE! Would you really give up on me after I accidentally showed you my ass?

"I know that I dumped you for Sylas, but I think you'll agree that I got my comeuppance for that. And I know that I have never treated anyone as badly as I treated Marge Bates. And I know that I'm not the best matchmaker. And I know that I should have left Haley and Robbie alone. But, mostly, I know that anything good about me has something to do with you, because you make me a better person."

"That was a hell of a speech," Evan chuckles.

"I know, right?"

"Harm, if all I can ever be is your friend, I will try to accept that, but you should know that I'm jealous of Sylas because you love him, and I want you to love ME."

Wait a minute! Was Evan Knight actually saying what I thought he was saying? Was he saying that he loved ME?

"About me loving Sylas...I DON'T, especially not after everything I've learned today. Furthermore, I NEVER loved Sylas! I was in-like with him, but that ended when he was a bastard to Janet during the Scrabble game. Before you ask me why I would care about my destiny being a bastard to my nemesis, I honestly have no idea!"

"Maybe you're FINALLY maturing."

"I wouldn't get your hopes up."

We were silent for awhile, and I'm not sure if it was awkward or not, until Evan broke the ice by mumbling, "Harm, if the whole me-being-in-love-with-you thing isn't going to work for you, I can always take it back."

Take it back, my ass!

I pounced on him, and I shoved my tongue down his throat, and it wasn't so much romantic as it was aggressive, but Evan didn't object.

"Marry me," he says, when I let him get a word in edgewise.

"If I must," I say, and I kiss the tip of his nose.

"But...we aren't putting sunflower seeds anywhere near our wedding cake, and Daddy will have to live with us, because he won't let me out of his sight until he's dead."

"As much as I LOVE sunflower seeds, I suppose I can handle a seedless cake. Also: of course your father can live with us! After all, he has the best stash of booze EVER.

Dave taps me on the shoulder, and I disentangle my hand from Evan long enough to give him a sign that meant "You may speak."

"Uh...a wedding would make the perfect season finale."

"Didn't her ass tell you she quit," Evan asks between kisses.

As Dave turns away, looking crestfallen, I extract my hand again, and I give him the "Call me" sign.

My ass may have said that I quit, but the rest of me wasn't so sure.

"I've been thinking that we spend an awful lot of time in my bedroom," I purr, when Dave is out of earshot.

"I was hoping we would continue that tradition," Evan purrs back, as much as a guy can purr.

"Perhaps, but I was thinking that we could try the kitchen first."

"The kitchen has always been my favorite room."

I had a feeling that the kitchen was about to become my favorite room as well.

non-damsel: So Harmony and Evan end up in the kitchen, instead of the bedroom, but you still get your way. I'm gonna miss these two crazy kids, except...maybe not. Their fighting exhausts me.


	17. In Which I am NOT Glamorous

Author's Note: You know the drill, right?

After watching Never Been Kissed for the fifth time, I know how I want to change, so I call the Front Desk.

"Hi. I'm Robbie Martin's sister. I know he's staying here, but I forgot his room number, and I need to tell him that our grandmother just died."

"Mr. Martin is in the room to your right, Miss."

"Oh."

He hung up before I could thank him. It seems to me that his inability to be hospitable at two o'clock in the morning means he needs to find another job.

I knock softly on Robbie's door, and it takes him fifteen minutes to answer. He's wearing boxers and mismatched socks, his hair is sticking up every which way, and he looks terrible, which is perfect.

"If you're looking for Sven Echnovich, or Sylas Cockerell, or Evan Knight, or whoever Harmony has introduced you to this week, you're about to be disappointed, because I'm the only one here."

"Good answer."

My hands are on his shoulders, and I push him into the room, and onto the bed.

"I've had all the time I need to think about us."

I place a candle on his bedside table, and I light it, but I leave the lamp on. While he gapes at me, I hand him a rose. My final reminder of his love confession is his note, which I had removed from the bottom of my suitcase, and cried over between the third and fourth time I had watched Never Been Kissed.

"This piece of paper is your promise to wait for me. Did you mean it?"

He nods, and I take the bobby pins out of my hair.

"I still mean it."

I shake my head, and my hair tumbles around my shoulders. Then, I place the bobby pins, the rose, and the note on the table, and I blow out the candle.

"Did you really buy the Harry Potter series?"

"I really read the Harry Potter series."

Off comes the dress.

"You probably hated it."

"I couldn't hate anything that reminds me of you."

Off comes the bra.

"Haley, you don't have to...prove anything to me."

The hunger in his eyes shows me how much he had to struggle to let me off the hook. He wanted me naked, and I wanted me naked. As long as he kept saying all the right things, we would both win.

"All of those other guys, even Evan, who I still think is one of the good ones, only knew me when I was playing dress up."

Off come the panties and the shoes.

"You're the only one who has ever seen what is underneath the layers of bullshit."

"I like what I've seen."

I knew he was talking about more than what I looked like right now, but hearing that you're hot when you're naked isn't exactly an incentive to put your clothes back on.

"I love YOU, Robbie."

"Good answer."

Off come the boxers and the mismatched socks.

I thought about telling Harmony and Evan that Robbie and I were together, in a forever kind of way, but Evan had never said that he was interested in me, and I wasn't sure what to say to Harmony. People Magazine, and the Perfect Harmony crew, had used us both, so I empathized with the various kinds of anger she must be feeling. However, I wasn't ready to forgive her for interfering in my love life. I hoped we could sort things out one day, and maybe we could even be acquaintances, but that day was a long way off. For now, I just wanted out, so I headed to People Magazine's headquarters, ready to raise a little hell.

Before I reached the Information Desk, I ran into Gerard, who was sporting a neon blue wig.

"I know a way to avoid Marge," he says, and he takes me by the arm.

"Where are you taking me?"

"Bitch, PLEASE! You're not the first person who has come to speak with my boss in the last couple of days."

Outside of the office door, he hesitates.

"Gerard, you don't have to..."

"But I do," Gerard insists, and I'm terrified that he is going to have some kind of Diva Moment that I'm not equipped to handle.

"Haley Jones, you are the WORST dresser I have EVER seen, but...you didn't deserve the hell we put you through, and I can't let you do whatever you're about to do without making sure you know that you have at least one fan at People."

"Thanks, Miss," I kiss him on the cheek, and charge into the office.

"Is your piece FINALLY finished," asks a male voice I recognize.

He lowers the magazine that had hidden his face, and I start laughing.

"I see Harmony beat me to the punch, Sylas."

"Give me what you've got," Sylas barks, all business.

I hand him a stack of papers, with the words "FUCK YOU! I QUIT!" written in red ink on the top sheet.

"Cute," he says, through clenched teeth.

"I mean every word," I retort, and I stomp right out of there, with my head held high.

I can hear him yelling something about how Celeste Goddard won't let me come back to her school, and how I'll never work in this town again, but I have a new plan for my life. Robbie and I are going to raise cattle. It isn't glamorous, but glamorous doesn't work for me. I had wanted a taste of "something more" than country life, and I hated what I had become, because I had turned into someone who cared more about famous boys than my responsibilities, and more about my new friends than someone who had loved me when I was just a country girl. What it all boils down to is: I love Robbie, and I almost lost him, which I can't even blame Harmony for, because that had been my doing. I suppose it's possible to have ambitions and integrity, but I haven't figured out how to balance the two.

non-damsel: All it took for me to like Haley was for her to get naked. I wonder what that says about me. Anyhoodle! I hope you've enjoyed this, because slogging through Emma has definitely been an experience.


End file.
